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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27775645">Rising Tide</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingKarate/pseuds/KingKarate'>KingKarate</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Malibuniverse - Dutch x Tina [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Bad Boys, Crush at First Sight, Drinking Games, Exhibitionism, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, GNC Character, Getting to Know Each Other, Glove Kink, Leather Kink, Long-term Longing, Mild Kink, Motorbikes, Nonbinary Character, Oblivious, One-Sided Slow Burn, Other, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Shared Interests as Foreplay, Skinny Dipping, Stripping, True Love, Walks On The Beach, gender non-conforming, muscle cars</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:54:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>46,800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27775645</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingKarate/pseuds/KingKarate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><b>1986.</b> Tina's had a crush on Dutch for years, and seeing him again reminds her it's not going away any time soon. She's determined to finally get the guy, but first she has to make him notice her.</p><p>A Malibu companion fic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bobby Brown/Barbara (Karate Kid), Dutch (Karate Kid)/Original Female Character(s), Dutch (Karate Kid)/Tina (Malibuniverse), Jimmy (Karate Kid)/Jennifer (Cobra Kai), Johnny Lawrence/Ali Mills</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Malibuniverse - Dutch x Tina [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>169</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Malibu-niverse, Trans Cobra Kai and Karate Kid fic</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Main Attraction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikeLikeACobraKai/gifts">StrikeLikeACobraKai</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27590390">Malibu</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikeLikeACobraKai/pseuds/StrikeLikeACobraKai">StrikeLikeACobraKai</a>.
        </li>
        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27778042">Riding</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikeLikeACobraKai/pseuds/StrikeLikeACobraKai">StrikeLikeACobraKai</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I previously wrote this as a little mini one shot but decided to edit and extend things into a longer sister fic to StrikeLikeACobraKai's Malibu. </p><p>Thank you, Kai, for letting me play in your sandbox here and for asking me for the drabble that turned into... This. Thanks so much for all the guidance and help. I love Tina so much and I really hope you enjoy this.</p><p>As always, please make sure you're up to this point on Malibu before you continue with this work. Chapter 1 here covers up until the end of Chapter 4 over there, so please make sure you've gotten that far at least. I'm trying to make this stand on its own legs here, but the context of the original work is honestly super important because there's a lot Tina doesn't see.</p><p>An update and addition to the author's note that may impact the reading of this fic, since I've decided to put it in the Trans CK/TKK fic collection:<br/>It's the eighties in this fic, and so our main character doesn't have access to a lot of the words people might otherwise use to describe their gender identity now, in 2021. Tina uses she/her pronouns and may self-describe as a girl here out of convenience, but she is very gender non-conforming, and a lot of her gender feelings are based off my experience of being nonbinary. Thus I've decided to include her in the collection.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Liking Dutch pretty much coincides with the first time I met him, because it's the first time I saw that stupid fucking smile of his.</p>
<p>We’d been at a movie, Ali, me, and the girls, and he’d been throwing Milk Duds into our row, trying to get a reaction out of one of us. I’m used to macho shit, having spent most weekends working part time in my dad’s garage - growing up in that kind of masculine environment and everything <em>that </em>entails, you get used to a certain amount of asshole antics. I could deal with teasing, and he wasn’t malicious, just on some alpha trip that I couldn’t honestly say I hated.</p>
<p>A couple of the other girls were getting progressively more pissed, until Ali stood up and called him out right in the middle of the theatre. Of course that caught the eye of his friend Johnny, who was exactly Ali’s type, all tall and athletic and wholesome-looking, like he walked off the set of an ad for Tilex. </p>
<p>Knowing the company he kept, Ali was resistant, but between his persistence and some gentle encouragement from her friends, they started dating, and I was relieved that Dutch might be around more. </p>
<p>I hadn’t accounted for the fact that Dutch would also, in addition to being kind of an asshole (which I like), be as totally goddamn oblivious as the day is long. Maybe it’s just that I wasn't his kinda girl. At 14, with short hair, wearing a baggy sweater, and with engine grease perpetually stuck around the edges of my nail beds, I was basically invisible to boys. Being taller than most of the other girls in our friend group, generally broader around the shoulders, and near flat-chested didn’t help.</p>
<p>That’s all changed in the last couple of years, though, and the last stretch of puberty hit me like a train. My hair's longer, and I've got tits and hips to balance out the bulk in my shoulders. I finally look like a girl, and I like to think I can look hot when I put the effort in, so when Jimmy says he's throwing a party and his friends will be there, I can't help but be hopeful that Dutch might notice me at last.</p>
<p>I realize by the end of the first party that it’s utterly fucking futile, but I decide that I can still enjoy him from a distance. </p>
<hr/>
<p>At the second of Jimmy's little soirées, I'm more comfortable. At least there's a familiarity in going unnoticed that means I can get away with shit I might not otherwise - I can just sit back and enjoy the show instead of trying to impress him. And oh<em> boy </em>, does he put on a show when a bunch of us go for a walk down the beach. I'm lagging behind my friends a bit, taking my time checking him out, when he drops his pants and boxers, <em>everything, </em>and sprints naked into the ocean. My legs keep moving but I am most definitely staring, and pretty openly too. If he'd even looked my way at all he'd have noticed, and I might have had to pretend to be embarrassed at the sight of all that gorgeous tanned skin and honey-colored body hair that I definitely wanted to bury my face in. </p>
<p>I notice, and do my best to commit to memory, that despite being out in cold water, in the middle of winter, he's pretty well hung. Everything about this sight is being absorbed and deposited directly into my spank bank for later. Once I'm home, alone in the privacy of my room, I'm definitely gonna end up jilling off to the thought of being in the water with him, and I'm sort of grateful that the fantasies I've been having for the last 4 years are about to get <em>even more </em>graphic.</p>
<p>It's just a shame I can't summon up the courage to strip off my jeans and dive in myself, and none of the other girls are biting either. Nobody wants to be the first, put themselves out there like that. </p>
<p>In another situation, with another guy, with other friends around, I might have gone for it, but I can already feel the disapproval rolling off Susan in waves and I'm not really in the mood to get into another bitchfest by telling her where to stick the attitude. She's a good friend, and loyal, but I'm in no goddamn mood for the judgement tonight. I just need to have this one thing, and I need her to let me without pissing all over it.</p>
<p>He’s standing there grinning at everyone and it makes me lovesick, and after all this fucking time, he still doesn’t really see me. I sigh, real soft so hopefully no one else notices, and pull my jacket around myself a little tighter, then head off to catch up with my friends. Ali’s looking at me weird, and she’s got some fucking nerve eyeballing me like that like she’s not just as messed up by Johnny being here.</p>
<p>We wander off up the beach ahead of everyone else.</p>
<p>“Still got a thing for Dutch, huh?”</p>
<p>I shrug, aiming for casual and completely missing the mark.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry. I think he’s an ass, and even more because he’s never given you a chance.”</p>
<p>“He doesn’t even know I exist, Ali, never has. It’s fine. It’s just how it is.”</p>
<p>I know, logically, that if I wanted to screw him, just for the sake of hitting and quitting, I’d pretty much just have to throw myself at him and he’d probably go for it. He puts it about enough, all of Johnny’s little gang have over the years, and Dutch is the real extrovert among them. I don’t think he’s capable of being shy about much of anything. </p>
<p>But that’s never been what this has been about, and it never fucking will be. I just plain old like myself too much to be a forgotten, faceless fuck. I know, when/if I have him, he’s gotta be right there in the moment with me, through the whole thing, and he’s gonna remember exactly who made him feel good, even if it’s just one time. So fuck it, I’d rather not have him at all than go half-measures on something that would be disappointing for me.</p>
<p>“I think you deserve better, anyway.”</p>
<p>I give her a warning look. “Ali, don’t.”</p>
<p>“What happened to that guy you were seeing this semester? What was his name?”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t matter.” And it didn’t matter, because he didn’t live up to standards. I wasn’t sure anyone would.</p>
<p>We’re a fair way down the beach, now, and it’s getting pretty dark.</p>
<p>“We’re heading back!” I hear someone call from behind us, and I think it’s Barbara, who has her own little bit of boy drama brewing.</p>
<p>Ali and I turn to catch up with the rest of the group, and yeah, I don’t regret coming tonight, and I’m gonna keep coming back, if only because this might be the last chance I get to enjoy being in his vicinity for a while.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Things get real interesting on the Saturday, when right near the end, Johnny drags me into their conversation. Dutch doesn't remember me, because <em> of course</em>, he never does, and scoffs derisively when I mention working on my own motorbike. I realize, holy shit, this guy literally knows <em> nothing </em> about me.</p>
<p>But Johnny's put Dutch's attention on me, and I'm fucked if I'm not gonna keep it. </p>
<p>I play my cards close to my chest, peppering in a few details to pique his interest, not giving away too much unless he wants to push for more.</p>
<p>The bit about my dad racing gets his approval. </p>
<p>I'm listening intently but giving off the air that I'm really not hanging on his every word, until I ask about his car, like Ali suggested a couple days ago, and wow, he seems to like it so much he'd fuck its exhaust pipe if he could. He's so fucking obsessed with it that his whole face lights up, and he's just grinning like a proud daddy. </p>
<p>At least that's the kinda guy I know how to deal with. He's so far removed from the artsy college boys who pretend they give a shit about The Runaways just because I'm a dark haired chick in black leather, and I'm fucking delighted. I've been around men like Dutch my whole life. I can work with this. </p>
<p>If I could think clearly enough while he's got that deep brown gaze fixed on mine, I'd remember something from psych 101 about some old asshole who thought everyone's issues boiled down to wanting to bone your father. A small bit of me wonders <em> if </em> I've been holding out hope for Dutch because I find his attitude reminiscent, and I throw that thought out of my brain before I gross myself out. </p>
<p>My dad's not really like this though, he's the guy who <em> used </em> to be like this, and came out the other side with a kid who's a little too much like him and an ex-wife who couldn't be more different. It's my dad that told me to be patient. <em> "If he's really worth your time, he'll meet you halfway. Don't chase him."  </em></p>
<p>I blow out a breath so I can look as if I don't really give a shit what Dutch is saying, and we go back and forth about cars for a while, the banter coming easy enough. I think we're really getting along until Tommy's current bit, Erin, comes over with a couple of friends, and suddenly Dutch's attention is on one of the other girls.</p>
<p>I decide to make myself scarce. I'm not gonna sit around and be ignored, and I don't compete for attention. Mostly cos, by the time a guy's got you acting shitty to another girl like that, you've already lost.</p>
<p>Connie follows me inside and gives me a commiserating little smile and a pat on the shoulder. I think Jen has gone off to find Jimmy. I wonder for a second about finding Johnny and thanking him for being nice, but no, that's gonna be weird and I don't think he knows I've been carrying a torch for Dutch since forever, so I shouldn't give the game away. </p>
<p>I find out from Freddy that he's gone home with Bobby already, anyway, and Freddy gives me a weird look for asking. </p>
<p>I'm sitting in the kitchen nursing my bruised ego and a mostly empty self-pity beer, half listening to Josh tell some joke I'm not really getting, when Dutch comes in and makes a beeline for the fridge.</p>
<p>For the first time I can remember he actually acknowledges me in more than passing recognition. He gives me a definite nod in greeting, notices my beer being empty, and slides a replacement down the counter to me before gathering up enough for his little group outside and wandering off. </p>
<p>I guess that's something? </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Feel The Heat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dutch and Tina get talking shop.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one covers Chapter 5 of Malibu, from Tina's perspective. Make sure you've read that, then enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wednesday’s a long one. </p><p>I arrive with Connie around four, and we hang out on the beach for a while, then when it’s starting to cool off a bit, we head inside to help Jennifer set up.</p><p>Jimmy’s down on the beach with Bobby and Tommy, and I think Johnny’s milling around somewhere. There's a few other faces starting to arrive, but mostly it's just us up in the house. </p><p>“Did you notice Johnny the other night?” I ask Connie. “I’m trying to figure out why he got me talking when he was with the guys.” The <em> with Dutch </em>part of that is basically a given.</p><p>“You know he’s been talking to Ali?” She’s got this little furrow in her brow like she does when she’s thinking about something, and runs her fingers through her short, brown hair, ruffling the top a bit.</p><p>“Oh, yeah? I didn’t, but it makes sense I guess.”</p><p>There’s some bags of chips around, so I empty them into the special little bowls that Jimmy seems to have bought just for entertaining. I don’t think anyone else would really care, but he’s way into this, and so’s Jennifer. It's pretty sweet, seeing them play house.</p><p>I keep myself busy, getting a few other things ready and checking we’re set for the little things some of the guys would forget about. I end up loading more beer into the fridge, because we always go through a lot, and nobody wants warm beer really. </p><p>Connie finds me, with Nicole and Jennifer, and I guess they wanna go say hi to the guys out on the patio, so I follow. I’ve got a beer in my hand, because since I restocked, I’m at least taking the lonely cold one that was already there. </p><p>We chat about shit from high school for a while, who from our year went to prom with who, which teachers we’ve run into since, which ones were surprisingly cool when they no longer had to deal with us in class.</p><p>I’m listening to Greg tell a story about Mrs. O’Rourke, the severe math teacher who didn’t seem to like teaching all that much, when I notice Connie’s taken a bit of a friendly interest in talking to Johnny.</p><p>Of course, that pulls Freddy into the conversation, because he’s had a little thing for Connie since fifth grade. Not that it’s ever stopped him pursuing other girls, he just keeps circling back this way in case she ever changes her mind. She never does, poor guy, but I guess I'm not in a position to pity him over that. </p><p>They’re talking about Knott's, I realize, when we get back to the topic of Jimmy’s shorts. I tease Jennifer about how Jimmy looked that year, and she makes a big show of seeming mad at me for noticing, like half the girls in town hadn't been hoping he might look their way. Jimmy's pretty, no two ways about it, but really straight-laced compared to his buddies. He's the sensible, non-threatening one. Perfect for Jen.</p><p>Besides, we both know my interest was elsewhere. That whole summer I was keeping half an eye out for Dutch, laughing when he was being a dumbass around the pool, looking as gloriously tan as always, with muscular thighs I just wanted to sink my teeth into. I'm <em>majorly</em> glad that hasn't changed. </p><p>I drop in a little offhand comment about me not being interested in Jimmy, thinking it’s not gonna be obvious to anyone who doesn't know about that, and Johnny grins at me like that's just hilarious. Maybe a little <em> too </em>funny for someone who doesn't know what's going on there, but like, I'm not just gonna come out and ask if he's aware that I've been hot for Dutch since forever.</p><p>Jennifer gives off this big dramatic sigh and insults my taste in men, which is<em> fair</em>, I guess, and it’s still vague enough that I can’t get way pissed about it.</p><p>Before I can really react, Connie's saying how nice this all is, and Steve moves the conversation along to our plans for New Year's Eve.</p><p>"Why don't we take that ride?" Bobby asks, so I figure Johnny's idea has filtered through his group a bit. </p><p>Immediately, I'm on board. "Sounds rad."</p><p>Connie rolls her eyes. She, Jennifer, and a couple of the less-fun guys are into the idea of throwing a beach party. </p><p>That could be fun, but I'm really itching for an excuse to get out and ride, especially in a group. The last time I really had the chance was while Ali had been dating Johnny. Shit, that was a long time ago now. Too long.</p><p>As if summoned, Ali appears and instead of standing with us, inserts herself in the circle next to Johnny, between him and Greg. I don’t pay it much mind, grateful that Connie gave me the heads up about them talking earlier.</p><p>They do that little awkward “Hey.” that they do, the one where both their voices pitch higher than normal, and they sound almost nervous around each other. It’s gotta be weird, especially since everyone’s staring. They get to talking about Johnny’s mom, and soon it becomes clear there’s no drama kicking off here, and everyone else starts chatting about different things, the big group splitting into smaller ones.</p><p>Nicole wants to go for a swim, and she and Steve and a couple of other people I don’t know well end up heading off for a while. Jimmy and Jennifer are looking smitten as always, too absorbed in each other to really bother with much else for the time being.</p><p>I’m happy enough just chilling out, listening to Connie and Freddy joke about someone they knew in elementary, not really following but amused enough by their interaction that it’s not a total bore. I could definitely use another beer, though, so I offer to refresh everyone else’s drinks. Johnny takes me up on the offer, so I grab him one when I’m getting my own, and head back to the group.</p><p>People filter in and out through the course of the afternoon, heading out to grab food that’s not party nibbles, get extra drinks, shit like that. It’s a bit later, when Dutch arrives with Tommy, that I start paying attention. </p><p>He, as fucking <em> always, </em> heads right into the thick of the group and drapes himself across Johnny’s shoulder, like a cat or something. He's so obnoxious, it's almost understandable that my girls usually roll their eyes whenever he walks in the room. </p><p>“Hey, Dutch,” I say, since he’s standing pretty much opposite me and it feels rude to not say anything after the other night with the beer.</p><p>“Tina.” he raises his bottle in greeting.</p><p>“How’s your baby?” I ask, meaning the car. Between the hints Ali's been dropping, and the conversation on Saturday, I can see that car talk is my best shot, and it's something I can play for as long as I need.</p><p>He steps back from Johnny, closer to me and looking a little more invested. “She’s good. Lookin’ extra pretty today.”</p><p>“Oh yeah? You’ll have to introduce me sometime.” I laugh, taking a sip of my drink, and my heart does a stupid little backflip when he smiles at me with a genuine warmth I’ve never really felt from him before.</p><p>Okay, so the car’s <em>definitely</em> key to this, I guess.</p><p>“How are you?” he asks and huh, that's surprising. </p><p>I disguise my shock behind another sip of beer. “Pretty good. Spent the morning helping my dad at work, then rode down after we got a new engine block into his buddy’s Mustang.”</p><p>“Yeah?” He seems genuinely interested, even though there’s not so much to it.</p><p>“Yeah, guy got it for a steal but it wasn’t running, so my dad's shop's doing the work. You know what it’s like getting an engine moved, though, right?”</p><p>“Right,” Dutch is nodding. “good to have an extra pair of hands.”</p><p>“If you ever need help with your girl, you’re welcome to bring her over. We’ll take good care of her.” I'm totally saying this so that he'll think about swinging by after winter break is over, and even if I'm not there, I might get to hear a little bit about how he's doing from my dad.</p><p>Oh, that lopsided smile he gives is gonna be the fuckin' death of me. “I’ll keep that in mind.”</p><p>Johnny and Tommy are talking about something else, and we hear a little snippet of their conversation when ours lulls.</p><p>“How wide we wanna throw the invitation, you reckon?” asks Tommy, and that’s enough to pique Dutch’s interest.</p><p>“Anyone, I guess.” Johnny replies, and okay, now<em> I </em>wanna know what they’re talking about.</p><p>Dutch has no concerns about interrupting them. “What’s all this?”</p><p>“We’re going for a ride,” Johnny says. “It’s on two wheels, though, so I’m not sure if it’s gonna be your thing.”</p><p>Dutch smiles, smug as hell. “I can force myself. Sounds like a great idea.”</p><p>There’s a little pause where Johnny looks like he’s waiting for something, before he jumps in and asks if I’m coming along.</p><p>“She’d better,” Dutch says. “I wanna see if she’s full of shit, or if she can put her money where her mouth is.”</p><p><em> Ohh, fuck, </em> I think to myself, because he’s challenging me and it’s crazy fucking hot. I can feel it awaken something that I was already struggling to keep a lid on. I wanna push back, make sure he knows exactly where my mouth <em> could </em>be, but it’s way too fucking soon, too out of nowhere for this oblivious asshole. </p><p>I have to look away a bit and bite my tongue so I don’t say anything back, and definitely so he can’t see the flush of heat that I’m certain has my cheeks pink. My nostrils flare as I take a deep, steadying breath in. </p><p>“Sure.” I agree on the exhale.</p><p>“Oh great,” Connie sighs. “You’re such a tomboy.”</p><p>I am, but that’s never bothered me, so I smile like it’s a compliment. “You’re just jealous you can’t ride. You know I’m always here, if you wanna learn.”</p><p>Connie makes a disgusted face. “No thanks, I’ll keep my limbs, and my brain intact.”</p><p>I distinctly remember Connie enjoying the bikes, though admittedly not as much as I did, back in the day. But she’s grown up a lot, like all of us have, and I can’t expect her to stay just as thrilled as I am by it. It's in my blood, and her bitiching definitely makes me look more badass by comparison, so I chalk it up as a win.</p><p>“Suit yourself.”</p><p>I'm smirking at Dutch because of Connie’s attitude, and he smirks back. I have to try super hard to pretend I’m not just about dying inside. </p><p>“So you’re saving for an upgrade, huh?” Dutch asks.</p><p>“Yeah, soon as I'm working full time. Got a little corner of the shop picked out and everything.” </p><p>“What you thinking of getting?” </p><p>I shrug super casually, acting like I don't know this is gonna get a reaction. “Depends what comes up. I'm looking for a project, y'know? More bang for my buck.” </p><p>He's got his head tilted just so as he's listening to me, and holy fuck, I feel like the only person in the world. I feel <em>invincible</em>.</p><p>I can hear the others chatting among themselves around us, just background noise as I've tuned them l out. </p><p>“Suppose you're not paying out the ass for parts and labor.” </p><p>I laugh softly. “I'm not above scavenging parts, but my dad's trade accounts can be useful yeah.” </p><p>“I can totally imagine you, hanging around the scrap yard.” </p><p>“You fucking know it. Sometimes they're so impressed when they see a girl, they just give me shit.” I roll my eyes and laugh a little. “So what do you drive? You didn't tell me before.”</p><p>“Buick Grand National.” </p><p>I suck in a breath through my teeth, for emphasis to make sure he knows I'm impressed. “Niiiiice.” </p><p>“Hey, wanna come see her?” Dutch is looking at me, but he says it loud enough that it's an open invite and a couple of the guys are interested, so it's not like he's trying to get me alone. Damn.</p><p>“I was hoping you'd say that.” I reply, because it's cool that he's at least thinking about me at all. It's <em>miles</em> of progress since last week. </p><p>A bunch of us get up and head into the house, then back out the other way, to see. Connie comes with, and she shoots me a despairing look when she sees my smile.</p><p>Okay, so he's right to be proud of the car. She's beautiful, glossy black, with real clean lines. Whoever designed the body on this model did a hell of a job, and somehow, it suits Dutch down to the ground. It's super fucking masculine but also stylish as hell, with a real bad boy charm to it. He pops the door open and gestures for me to slide into the passenger side, and heads around front to get behind the wheel. </p><p>The car is just as beautiful inside. Even though there's people around, watching, my heart is racing and my breath is shallower while we're in close proximity. I'm like, impossibly turned on just by him showing off to me like this. He starts the engine, revving it beautifully. It purrs like a fucking kitten. Yeah, it's hot shit. </p><p>“What do you think?” he asks, just letting it tick over while we sit there.</p><p>My mouth is dry and I really wish I'd brought my beer so it didn't sound as fucking obvious when I cleared my throat to speak. Maybe he'll just think I'm really fucking jealous of the car.</p><p>“She's gorgeous, Dutch.” I say, and it's genuine, but my feelings about the car don't really explain how breathy my voice comes out. I touch a finger to the dash, sort of reverently, and try to steady my breathing again. I’m hoping I sound halfway cool when I say, “I’d love to take her out sometime.” </p><p>“Could be fun.” he replies.</p><p>I could fucking scream right now. I'm totally on the edge of losing my cool, and I know it's absolutely fucking vital that I don't. But I'm so tightly wound, I can't deal. There's no fucking air in here, I need some space</p><p>“Hey, Connie?” I call out, knowing she's there to stop me doing anything really stupid. “Come look at this.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Dirty Secrets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Drinking games are fun.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Make sure you've read chapter 7 of Malibu before this!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I can breathe again once I'm outside, and I realize my legs are actually feeling shaky as I step away to let Connie slip into the passenger seat behind me. </p><p>Fuck, I need a drink.</p><p>I head inside single-mindedly, in the direction of the bar. Jimmy’s standing there, mixing some cocktail for Jennifer, rattling that little metal shaker like he’s in a Bond movie, and he’s looking every inch the sophisticated adult. </p><p>“Got any whiskey?” I ask, because I know I need something stronger than beer, and I think I saw Johnny with some scotch earlier. I’ll take what I can get, to be honest.</p><p>“Sure. Single malt?”</p><p>I shrug, not really minding as long as it gets me drunk enough that I can ignore the ache between my thighs. How the fuck could sitting in a car with him have me on edge like this? <em> Shit. </em></p><p>Jimmy pours me a measure of the scotch, then looks at me a little shocked when I knock it back in one, as quick as if it was paint stripper.</p><p>I probably would have settled for the paint stripper at this point.</p><p>“Everything okay?” Jimmy asks, concern in his voice.</p><p>I hum in the affirmative, and gently place my glass back down on the bar. “Dutch’s car’s nice, huh?”</p><p>“I guess so, if you’re into that sort of thing.” he replies, carefully. “Your dad’s a mechanic, right?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Jimmy nods, almost understandingly, about what we’re very deliberately not saying.</p><p>“Hey, Tina.” Jennifer's on her way over and I'm not gonna meet her eyes because she already knows I've got it bad and she thinks I'm really <em>spectacularly</em> stupid because of it. </p><p>I can't fucking help it. Never have been able to. Fuck, I'm in so deep. I didn't think it could get worse, and now I feel like I'm fucking drowning in him. </p><p>Deep breaths. <em> Deep breaths. </em></p><p>Jimmy pours me another drink, and I don't put this one away quite as fast. It's actually pretty pleasant.</p><p>I'm mostly silent for a little while, my thoughts circling, but at least I’m calming down a bit, until they all come back into the house. Dutch sees the bottle on the bar top and immediately suggests we play a drinking game. </p><p>“I don't think that's a great idea.” Jennifer says, but I dunno. <em> Maybe </em>.</p><p>“I'm not playing beer pong.” I say, before I've even thought about what I <em> will </em> play. </p><p>Dutch scoffs, as if he'd ever suggest something so lame.</p><p>“Never have I ever?” Connie suggests. </p><p>It's perfect. Dutch looks like he's about to protest before I say, authoritatively, “I'm in. Jimmy, you wanna line them up?”</p><p>Jimmy grabs a bunch of glasses and sets them on the coffee table, fills them, then puts the bottle down too. </p><p>As nice as it is having Jimmy and Jennifer play the grownups with their fancy beach house and big parties, seeing them cut loose a bit is a relief, even as Jen is protesting that she's only taking part because she's stopping it from getting out of hand. Like any of us believe that while she's looking like that, her face a little flushed from laughing and being just tipsy enough to entertain the idea of a drinking game at all.</p><p>We all kinda huddle around in a circle. Dutch is on one of the sofas, further away from me, but that's perfect because the more distance between us the better right now. I don't want to blow it yet. Well, of course I'd like to <em>blow</em> <em>it</em>, but it wouldn't get me what I wanted as things stand. So, I'm waiting. I'm being cool. I'm not telegraphing how <em>ridiculously </em>into him I am. </p><p>Dutch, having suggested the game, starts us off, declaring, “Never have I ever dated the same person for more than six months.”</p><p>I can’t drink at that one, either, but pretty much everyone else does their shots and refills their glasses, and there’s not much to talk about there.</p><p>Maybe it's the booze (it's never just the booze) but Dutch looks especially hot right now. He's leaning back against the sofa a little way down from me, and his tight black t-shirt is accentuating his build perfectly, hitting all the right notes on what I like in a guy. He's broad, bordering on stocky, a little softness over real, useful muscle. I think it's perfect; he doesn't just look like a gym rat, but like, genuinely strong in the way that I know he could toss me around a little without much effort, if it ever came down to that. He's so <em>extremely</em> sexy, it's almost painful.</p><p>I know I've barely looked anywhere else for a while, because he's hypnotizing, and Jimmy's good whiskey is hitting my system hard. It may as well have been the cheap shit for all the good it's doing me now.</p><p>“Never have I ever kissed a girl," Connie asks, and obviously the guys all drink.</p><p>I look to Jennifer when she raises her glass to her lips with a sly smile. "What, it was a cheer camp thing.”</p><p>Jimmy doesn't appear shocked, but he's not meeting anyone's eyes either. Oh, he knew, but he's into it. Well, shit. <em> Good for them. </em></p><p>My eyes wander back to Dutch, and he's looking my way, sort of curiously, and chewing his bottom lip in a way that makes the little scar there very apparent and very appealing. I force myself to look elsewhere.</p><p>Jennifer is thinking hard about her question.</p><p>“Never have I ever dated a person to make someone else jealous.”</p><p><em> Fuck. </em> I bite back the burn of my shot, and am still just as incensed after. “That’s bullshit! You knew about that one.”</p><p>Jen’s feigning innocence. “Who was that again?”</p><p>Jimmy’s in on it. “Your sophomore year. Lee? I wanna say Lee.”</p><p>Lee had looked like a poor, pale imitation of Dutch, and to boot he'd been an asshole with none of Dutch’s redeeming qualities. He wasn't funny, he wasn't charming, and not particularly sexy either. I cringed, wanting the ground to swallow me whole when I thought about him. What can I say? I’d been young, dumb, and full of... bad ideas.</p><p>“Fine, I've got one. Never have I ever had to fake it.” I smile smugly, because yeah, if we're doing targeted questions I have way more ammo on Jennifer than she has on me. </p><p>When Jimmy and Jennifer had just started dating, neither had much experience, and things had been <em> awkward </em>until they got comfortable enough to just admit what wasn’t working for them. By all recent reports, Jimmy was a fantastic lay, hence my willingness to tease her about it now. It would have been cruel if he had actually been bad in the sack, and that isn't my style.</p><p>She frowns at me, and stands up to leave, taking a bit of the thrill out of my victory. “If you're gonna start asking dirty questions like that, I forfeit.”</p><p>Jimmy's looking a little embarrassed, though not too much, and Dutch looks like the cat who got the cream, licking his bottom lip while he barely restrains himself, because literally all of us can read between the lines on that.</p><p>She doesn't look angry when she says, "I'm gonna see how everyone else is doing." </p><p>I guess we're good. So in the end, no one drinks for that round and it's Jimmy that comes up with another.</p><p>"Never have I ever been in handcuffs, for any reason."</p><p>I take another shot at the same time Dutch does, and our eyes meet over the tops of our glasses. I can't help but erupt into laughter when everyone's staring at me expectantly, shocked.</p><p>“You first.” I pass over to Dutch, mostly so I have a chance to catch my breath, and he starts explaining how in '84 he got into a bar fight and broke a dartboard. I remember that; he did a short spell in juvie and I'd felt his absence at school around the end of the year. </p><p>Now Dutch is looking at me again, waiting personally for me to share since he has.</p><p>“Okay, but it’s not <em> so </em> dramatic.”</p><p>Dutch smirks, and I don’t think he really believes me.</p><p>“So, two weeks into the school year, I’m with this guy, we’ve been on a few dates, and I get back to his place. He tells me he wants to tie me to the bed. I’m game, I’m not averse to things getting rough, so I let him cuff me to his headboard. Well, big mistake, because we’re going at it, and his shitty dorm bed collapses under me, I fall through the slats, and I dislocate my shoulder. Not a fun story to tell to a cute ER doctor.”</p><p>Half of those in the room wince, but Dutch, true to form, looks like he’s sure I’m bullshitting.</p><p>“Which shoulder?”</p><p>“Left, thankfully. I didn’t have to take time out of college. It just sucked not being able to ride my bike. It still aches if I do too many push-ups, but it's just about fine now.”</p><p>He looks away in that way he does when he’s begrudgingly impressed. The whiskey is right in front of him, and I have to get up and lean across to grab it, which means I end up nearly in his lap when I stumble on my way back.</p><p>“Easy, there.” he grins up at me, wolfishly. I’m off balance in more ways than one, now.</p><p>“Fuck off.” I laugh, but the warmth where he’s put his hand on my hip to steady me feels like it’s <em> burning</em>, and I can’t bring myself to move away either.</p><p>His eyes flick down my body and land on the bottle in my hand.</p><p>“Gimme that.” he says, and it’s like a command that I am fucking <em> helpless </em> to resist.</p><p>I tilt my head at him, because I'm not gonna say no, but I’m not gonna make it too easy. I lift the bottle just above his face, and I don’t think I’m really expecting it when he tilts his head back and opens his mouth for me to pour. </p><p>I enjoy the perfect shape of his lips, willing and pliant, waiting, his teeth slightly bared, for a second before I do. Just a splash, but it’s fucking insane how hot it is when his eyes meet mine. He's so intense in everything, it drives me wild. It's so tempting to straddle his lap and put my hands all over him, damn everyone else in the room. </p><p>Then Jimmy makes some noise of complaint at the mess we’ll end up making on these expensive sofas, and it breaks the spell, but I’m breathing heavy when I go back to my seat.</p><p>“Come on then, you have to ask something now.” I prompt, because I wanna see if he’s got anything he’s just dying to know. Even if there probably isn’t.</p><p>“Never have I ever done a body shot.” Dutch says, and I’m a little bit disappointed I can’t drink just to see the look on his face after that.</p><p>I’m relieved that no one can read my mind right now, so from the outside I look like I'm not thinking of doing tequila shots off Dutch’s abs, licking salt from his warm brown skin, taking a lime wedge from that impossibly attractive mouth that <em> I can’t stop staring at, </em> because <em> yep, he’s biting his lip again </em> and <em> is he doing that to fuck with me on purpose, or is this just a thing he does when he’s drunk? </em>It’s probably the second one.</p><p>Jimmy drinks, though, and all heads spin towards him which drags me back into the moment, and the conversation. He shrugs casually and doesn’t seem to want to elaborate, which only makes people push for more information.</p><p>“Jen?” I ask, but he’s got this chivalrous smile on his face and it’s gonna wind Dutch up even more.</p><p>“A gentleman never tells.” he says, and I think he’s halfway joking, but I’m glad he doesn’t go further, even when Dutch starts looking like he’s gonna throw a tantrum about it.</p><p>I know it’s Jen, anyway, but nobody else needs to.</p><p>“If you’re gonna be such a chick about answering, I’m out.” Dutch says, and it’s just as well because according to the big fancy clock on the wall it’s around 2am, and I’ve just done several shots in pretty quick succession after drinking for most of the evening. </p><p>Needless to say, I’m feeling it now, and I kinda wanna lean back into the couch and pass out right here. </p><p>God, I wish he’d come over here and just fucking kiss me, but he’s getting up and walking outside and I’m just watching him go. I'm still taking the opportunity to check out his ass in his tight bootcut jeans as he walks away, and I end up sighing sorta wistfully in the knowledge I may never get to grab it, and at the very least not soon enough.</p><p>What a <em> fucker. </em></p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Slip Of The Lip</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The guys watch a game. Tina makes a play of her own.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter corresponds with Chapter 8 of Malibu.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Come Saturday, I find myself wandering into Jimmy's place on my own, and besides a couple people milling around in various clusters, the biggest group I know is Johnny, Tommy, Greg, and Dutch. They're watching a game on the TV, all clustered on the beanbags in front of it.</p><p>I know I can hold my own here, so I throw my stuff down on the nearest one, which happens to be closest to Dutch. That’s convenient. A plan starts to form as I think about how I could maybe have some fun with this.</p><p>I lean forward and a little across Dutch so I can say hi to Johnny first, just a casual fist-bump, like we’re bros, and Johnny takes it in stride. I like that we're friendly now, and it gives me a chance to leave Dutch hanging.</p><p>I don't want him thinking I'm anywhere near as eager as I actually am just yet. He's cocky enough already, and like, by the time he realizes how bad I want him, I want him to be well over that cliff with me. I can’t <em> stand </em> the idea of him knowing just how much he’s got the upper hand. I pull back a bit, and my chest is kinda <em> there, </em>so maybe he’s noticed the proximity of my tits to his face. Then again, he doesn’t react, tries to keep his eyes on the game, so maybe not. It’s subtle enough, it’s not gonna look intentional.</p><p>I dread to think how insufferable he'd be if he figured out what I'm thinking while I'm looking down at him, hands behind his head, arms up so I can just see a tiny flash of golden-brown hair peeking out from the short sleeves of the white t-shirt he's wearing.</p><p>God, it's almost <em> perverse </em> but I'm wondering what he smells like up close. I've occasionally caught a hint of cologne when he's leaned in while talking to me, and that spicy, rich scent, which cuts through on the top notes with a hint of mandarin, is what I'm getting now as I sit in the adjacent seat. I'm mentally cursing the fact I've never been close enough that I got to enjoy <em> him </em> underneath it. </p><p>I <em> really </em> wanna fucking know.</p><p>“Tina.” he says, by way of greeting, as I settle into my beanbag. There's some back and forth about the game, Greg supports the opposing team and of course Johnny and Tommy and Dutch are united in their support of the locals.</p><p>There is a bit of banter about some different plays, some <em> what the fucks </em> and <em> is he fucking stupids </em> peppered in all over.</p><p>I'm glad I don't feel too out of place.</p><p>Eventually Steve walks in to join us, and Dutch even thinks to introduce me. </p><p>“Oh, hey,” he says. “Steve, you know Tina?”</p><p>“Sure. Hey,” Steve replies, then gives me a brief once-over. I'm not sure if he's trying to decide which one of the guys I'm screwing, and since it's none of them for now, I'm gonna let it slide.</p><p>“Hey.” I respond. </p><p>There's not actually loads of space around the TV the way we're spread out, so I shuffle over towards Dutch, ostensibly so Steve can have a better view. If anyone asks, which they don’t, it's a little warm in here. I slip my jacket off, not too carefully, and put it on the floor.</p><p>I realize too late that the zipper caught Dutch on the arm, and I think about apologizing, but he's still firmly glued to the game as if he didn't notice, so fuck him. Maybe he needs another extra push to look this way.</p><p>I entwine my fingers and put them behind my head for support, mirroring his position, wiggling my ass into the bean bag to make it comfortable. I can feel the movement of air across my stomach as my shirt rides up, and I know the sides of my cutoff tee are a little lower than I'd usually wear. Ali thinks I should show a bit more skin, thinks that’s the best way to make him notice that I’m not just a dude he gets on with.</p><p>Sure, Dutch usually fucks girls who wear less, but he also doesn’t stick around for any of them. So, I figure, maybe showing just enough to tease but not enough that it's <em> all </em> out there might work. It'd keep me comfortable enough for now, but there’s still a hint of something more, so that's what's on my mind while I'm looking at the TV and I see Dutch in my peripheral, blond head turning towards me. Maybe my jacket coming off prompted it, but his eyes are taking in my thighs, the flash of skin underneath ripped denim, then my stomach, which yes, twitches involuntarily under his gaze as I try and bite back a laugh, then up to where my tits look pretty great in this light grey top. He can definitely see the line of my bra, where the fabric of the cup is pinching in a bit thanks to my posture. I'm pretending I haven't noticed him checking me out, until I see him look at my face, and then I smirk up at the TV and he <em> knows </em>I just caught him, barely. He looks away with a smirk of his own. Little shit.</p><hr/><p>I think I'm winning at this, because he's been around me most of the day, and mentally I'm planning where we could go if he asks me to get out of here. I'm not getting my hopes up yet, cos it remains to be seen if anything has changed, but I know that planning ahead will make the actual event run a lot smoother when it comes. </p><p>I'm thinking at least maybe I'm under his skin a bit, later in the evening, when he's actually letting me sit on the hood of his Buick while I'm drinking my beer and we're laughing, having a great time. </p><p>And then fucking Courtney of all people comes over and starts flirting, and it takes a moment to push down the urge to be territorial here, because he's not mine, not yet. Jesus fucking Christ. Maybe I should have pushed things earlier, on the bean bags. But no, none of the others have lasted, and there's no reason to think this will either. If this is <em> anything </em> worth having, it's four and a half years in the making, and it can wait another couple days. I grant myself the grace and motherfucking <em> serenity </em>I clearly need. If it's nothing? I haven't lost shit by waiting a bit longer.</p><p>I know by now that I'll take a quick ride if I like my chances, because I’m fairly sure Dutch actually sees me as a person in addition to a fantastic pair of tits. But it's not worth it if he does what he usually does with girls, what he's doing with Courtney right now. He barely even says their names, really, keeps them at a distance in every way besides the physical. He's getting his dick wet, sure, but he's not committed to the bit at all. Fuck, even Tommy's more interested in the girls he sleeps with than that.</p><p>I'm not sulking, per se, but I hop down from Dutch's car and head for the bar again. </p><p>I bump into Freddy and wave a quick hi, and he introduces me to his buddy Alan. Alan's pretty obviously flirting, looking from my lips to my eyes and back while we’re talking about music, and he's shirtless <em> (why? In mid-December?), </em> so I can see he's a little on the skinny side for me, closer to Johnny's build than I'd usually go for. He's nothing like Dutch, if I'm honest, aside from the fact he's got his hair bleached a yellow blond, but I can see a bit under a half inch of brown roots, and to be honest, it's not so cute on him. </p><p>I want to entertain him, I really do. At least for tonight, when after a few more drinks I might be up for gripping the back of his neck with needy fingers as I think of someone awfully, <em> specifically </em>not him and at least pretending I don’t give a damn that he’s not who I really want.</p><p>But that’s not right now, especially as I look over to the back door and see Dutch through the glass, laughing at something, and it brings it all back with an ache around my sternum.</p><p>
  <em> Fuck. </em>
</p><p>I take my drink and push away from the bar, heading to the sofa.</p><p>I don’t wanna do this.</p><p>Any of it. </p><p>I’m there for a long time, sitting, looking down the neck of my bottle, before anyone approaches me. Maybe I look intimidating, it’s not the first time I’ve heard that. The one other guy I’d really given a shot, the one I refuse to talk about under any circumstances, told me that once. I can’t shake it, especially in moments like this when I feel the exact opposite. </p><p>I feel a knee nudging mine, and I’m vaguely hearing Susan tell me that the guys are putting together some kinda impromptu karate tournament on Monday. She sees I’m not feeling good, and I guess she’s annoyed on my behalf from her voice. On both our halves, maybe, since Tommy’s around somewhere. She’s like that, and it’s one of the many reasons I love her. She’s fiercely protective, willing to stand up to any of us if she thinks we’re not meeting our own standards, and she’s hard on herself if she’s not meeting hers either. She knows I wouldn’t tolerate this from <em> anyone </em> else, and so do I. Doesn’t make it any less what I’m doing, here and now.</p><p>“Come dance,” she says, trying to drag me out of my self-pity.</p><p>She’s gotten Jimmy to put Divinyls on the hi-fi, and I guess I can’t resist since she’s gone above and beyond to cheer me up. Heart Telegraph plays, and she pulls me to her. I’m soft and yielding under her tough-as-all-hell ex-cheerleader muscle. She’s a bit shorter than me, but I let her take the lead, and it’s nice, comforting, fun, being held and touched by someone who's not trying to get anything from me. I’m thankful that the room’s pretty empty, so I can let loose a bit, cos if there were many guys here they’d be whooping salaciously, but it's just a few of us and I can really lean into just enjoying moving my body. </p><p>The song ends, and she lets me go, and my heart’s a little lighter. Thank God for girlfriends, huh? I let her kiss me softly on the cheek then I push away from her, and we're smiling and laughing. Maybe I should be <em> less </em>miserable. I’ve got friends around, I should be enjoying myself, so that’s what I’m gonna do. </p><p>I’ve had too much to drink to consider smoking tonight, but I guess I can grab a blanket, go outside, and find a comfy spot in the sand where I can listen to the waves lapping at the shore. I wanna enjoy that, wanna snuggle under a blanket under the stars, at least until the sun comes up and I’m sober enough to justify the forty-five minute ride home. Shit, that sounds like<em> per-fec-tion </em>.</p><p>I head out the door with a blanket from the basket near the sofa. It’s soft, fluffy wool that I’m super grateful for, and I wander down the beach until it’s dark enough to watch the stars. I prefer the summer, when it’s warm enough to hang out at night comfortably in tiny shorts and bikini tops, lie back and watch the Perseids in mid-August. Still, if you’re paying attention you can catch something fun in the sky whenever. The Ursids are due to peak on Monday, but I know it’s close enough that I <em> might just catch a glimpse of something if I’m patient enough. </em></p><p>That seems to be my motto, I chuckle to myself, as I close my eyes and let myself sink into the comforting embrace of nature.</p><p>I can hear footsteps in the sand, making their way up the beach towards me, and the music from the house has changed to something less my speed. I guess I'm surprised when I open my eyes to see Ali standing up there, blonde hair framing her face. </p><p>“Hey.” I say, because I can't think of anything else, propping myself on my shoulders so we can talk</p><p>“What are you doing out here? I thought you were with Dutch.” </p><p>“I think he's taking Courtney home tonight.”</p><p>“Bastard.” It always seems sorta funny when Ali curses. Probably because she looks like she does, all sweet and angelic, like strawberry shortcake, and then out tumbles a filthy word from nowhere. It’s a reminder that she’s changed a bit since we graduated.</p><p>“It's fine.” I sigh, and I'm halfway to believing it. “If I got mad every time Dutch did something stupid I'd never feel anything else.”</p><p>“You're too easy on him.”</p><p>I laugh at that, because all my friends make a big song and dance about disliking him and I know it's partially for my sake. Although with Ali, it's always been that way, and all that changes is how much she means it. I think she means it a lot right now. </p><p>“Someone has to be, with you and Susan around.”</p><p>“If I was nicer to him, would you stop putting yourself through this?”</p><p>“Not a chance.”</p><p>“I think I'll keep being mean to him, then. It makes me feel better.”</p><p>I chuckle, because yeah, that’s comforting. “Thanks, Ali. For not getting mad at me for still liking him.”</p><p>“Well, you've always had questionable taste.”</p><p>That makes me laugh harder, because it's true, but her situation? Yeesh, I don’t even wanna go there.</p><p>“You headed home soon?” I ask, because I’m gonna go as soon as I feel up to it, but I don’t wanna be here on my own until that happens either.</p><p>“No, it’s still a bit early. You want me to stay with you?”<br/>I nod, and she lies down in the sand with me, pulling at my blanket so it covers her too. A few moments pass, while we’re looking up at the sky together in quiet reflection, before I feel the urge to speak. “Thanks, again.”</p><p>“It’s what friends are for.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Hot & Heavy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The gang go for a ride. Everything comes to a head for Tina.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one has some complicated instructions, sorry.<br/>So, this chapter corresponds to Chapter 9, up through to the first part of Chapter 10 of Malibu.</p><p>OPTION ONE: Go read that chapter up to the [X] that Kai has placed in that text to indicate the point where things break off, come back and read the entirety of this chapter, then go and read Riding (which is like this fic, from Tina's POV), and then go and finish Chapter 10 of Malibu. I know it seems like a lot, but it's the chronological order and you will absolutely get the best experience doing it that way.</p><p>OPTION TWO, slightly simpler: Read all of Chapter 10 of Malibu in one sitting, then come back here and read this. Follow the link at the end for Riding, and then continue on to the next chapter here after you're done.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s Monday morning, and I get a phone call. As clear as I can straighten it, Johnny's told Jimmy, who's told Jennifer to call and tell me we're going for a ride.</p><p>We end up at Malibu State Park a bit after lunch. Jennifer’s with Jimmy, Tommy’s got Erin, Steve’s got Meredith, and then it's me, Bobby, Freddy, Johnny, and Dutch on our own bikes. I'm a little disappointed Freddy didn't get Connie to come along, but I'll deal. At least Jen is here.</p><p>We find a nice stretch of road by the ranch, and the guys and I decide we're gonna let loose. I'm pleased with myself, because I do pretty fucking good, considering my bike is a lot smaller and less powerful than most of theirs. I'm not the fastest, but I'm probably a better rider than half the guys here. Naturally, it's Dutch and Johnny that give me the most trouble, though Jimmy and Tommy aren't bad either. Dutch takes it upon himself to be extra competitive, and I don't stand a chance if he's really trying considering what he rides, but he makes sure I don't lose by any huge measure. He's playing with me, I guess, and it's hot as hell.</p><p>The other girls end up in their own little group, watching what's going on and talking between themselves, occasionally one of their guys will go and sit with them, and sometimes one of them will go over and say hi, pretend to take an interest in the bike, whatever passes for an excuse to get in each others space without being told to get a room. </p><p>Eventually, I figure I'm gonna take a break and stretch my legs, so I pull up by the side of the road. I knock the kickstand out with the toe of my boot, and it takes the weight out from under me so I can climb off. The skin under my chin strap is feeling itchy, and I unclip it, knowing once I pull my head out I'm for sure gonna have a wicked case of helmet hair. I push the front of my hair up and back to try and get it how I like it, but it never really sits right after, and I'm a little sweaty around my hairline, so that's not helping either. </p><p>Dutch pulls his bike up alongside, grinning at me, and I'm lost for any reaction besides grinning right back.</p><p>I want to be mad at him for Saturday night, but somehow it doesn't seem fair, when I know how he is. I've known for a long time, so I let it go. At least we're kinda-sorta friends now, and that in itself is something good. I mean, I’m getting away with shit that other girls don’t, like sitting on the hood of his car the other night. I’d only done it so he might tell me off a bit, another excuse to be playful, but that moment never came as he just rolled his eyes at me and let me stay there. I thought I'd liked him before, but having his attention has turned my crush all the way up to eleven, and I couldn't stay mad if I'd wanted to.</p><p>I take my gloves off so I can clean off my glasses. They always get a little misty when my breath turns to condensation inside my helmet. I rub the lenses with the bottom of my t-shirt, knowing I'm lifting it a little higher than I really need to, and when I slide them back on my face, I see Dutch considering me, like he's weighing something up in his head.</p><p>He seems to come to a conclusion, though, and he asks, “Would you like to ride my bike?”</p><p>It's a hell of an offer, like, <em> monumentally </em> big, and it's not like I don't know that it's a big deal. I plant my butt against the seat of my bike and rest a bit of my weight there, while I'm figuring out how to respond. </p><p>“With or without you on it?” I ask, because that's another factor in this. It's somehow less and <em> more </em> intimate if he wants to come with.</p><p>He grins. “I guess either, but I meant you can have a go. See how fast you go on a proper bike.”</p><p>My mind's kinda blown. Just how often does he let people ride his bike that he's suggesting it so casually? It's hard to believe that I'm that special, and yet… I can't tell. I don't know what to say, so I settle on halfway-joking, deflecting onto something else.</p><p>“Don’t listen to him,” I coo and pat my Honda in a soothing apology, because I’m not gonna let him insult my baby any more than he’d let me insult his, “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”</p><p>“So… that’s a no?” his smile falters and I hate being the one to do that, it's like a punch in the gut, and now I have to recover fast. </p><p>I push off my bike, standing to my full height and already pulling my gloves back out of where I'd stashed them in my helmet. “Didn’t say that. You sure you don’t mind?”</p><p>“Nah, go for it.”</p><p>I really hope he can't see that my hands are shaking, I'm way nervous. Not really about the bike, but about what this means. What if I'm misreading this and he's the one biker I know who isn't really precious about his vehicle? </p><p>“You’re not worried I’ll crash your bike?” I need to know and I can't just ask.</p><p>“You won’t. If you didn’t crash during that police chase, you’re not gonna crash on this road.”</p><p>The trust in me is immense, and it's somehow headier than the idea that he'd want to fuck me. Because that’s definitely the implication of him on the back. Shit. Fuck. God<em>damn </em>it, my brain is short circuiting. I swallow hard, and God as my witness, I've never wanted to kiss him more. Every bit of me <em>aches</em> for him.</p><p>Instead, I push my hair back from my face and pull my helmet back on. I have to fumble a bit to click my chin strap in because, yeah, my hands are shaking real bad. </p><p>Dutch's eyes flick over somewhere vaguely behind me and off to my right, but I don't follow. There's only two things that matter here; Dutch, and showing him I'll meet any challenge he puts in front of me. He meets my eyes through the visor and I think, for a second, maybe I see something there that I can't really believe I'm seeing. </p><p>When he stands back, gesturing to his bike open handed, I have to step up. My leg swings across, and the bike's a little tall for me really, but I can handle it. I wouldn't wanna ride it full time, because that two and a half inch difference in our height means everything when you've got upwards of 300lbs of metal between your thighs, but I'm certainly gonna have a great time putting it through its paces. It's not like I'm gonna have to spend a lot of time standing in traffic, anyway. </p><p>I take a breath, lean over, and kick the stand up with my heel. I've got a good, firm grip on the throttle, as I'm leaning over the tank, and then I'm off, taking her up through the gears until I'm well over the speed limit and probably not much more than a black dot in the distance.</p><p>With the wind rushing at me I'm not freaking out about Dutch. It's honestly hard to feel anything but pure joy and adrenaline when you're going this fast, at least for me. When I'm coming back, I can see that Dutch is sitting with Johnny, so I do another couple passes, until I'm good and satisfied I've put on enough of a show. </p><p>I don't even bother hiding my grin when he strides over after I come to a stop and climb off. I get my helmet and gloves off as quickly as possible, so I can clean my glasses again and really see how he's looking at me. </p><p>“How'd you like her?” he asks, looking at me like he's asking <em>way</em> more than that. </p><p>“She can move, that's for sure. Though I forget you're taller than me, sometimes. Don't think I could keep her.”</p><p>He takes another step forward until he's got me not-quite penned in against his bike, and yeah, he's using those couple of inches in his favor as he's looking down at me. It's like he's testing the waters, and I'm wondering just how far he's gonna go, because I'm struggling to stay afloat.</p><p>“You looked good.”</p><p>My heart nearly stops at the compliment, but I <em> need </em> to drive this home.</p><p>“Oh yeah? Past tense?”</p><p>He's so close, I can see his pupils dilate as he's looking down at me, his lips part, and I know <em> that's </em> the perfect time to slip around him. I jog over to Jennifer with my helmet dangling from my fingers, leaving him wondering what the fuck just happened. </p><p>We head back to Jimmy's later in the afternoon, when the heat is going out of the sun, and on the way back I can't help but smile to myself that Dutch is keeping pace with me, not screwing around and trying to overtake the others like he was on the way there.</p><p>I'm not getting my hopes up, but something definitely happened when I was on his bike. Something shifted, and I like it. I don't know how long it's gonna take to move again, but I'm nothing if not patient with Dutch, and I'm just praying that he makes his move before winter break is over and I don't have any more excuses to keep him around.</p>
<hr/><p>We get to Jimmy's and everyone's helping to clear the living room for the little tournament the guys have set up, but that doesn't take so long. </p><p>We're all mingling for a while and there's so many people here, I lose Dutch in the crowd. It sets me on edge a bit, after earlier. Dutch and I seem to do fine when there are no other distractions, but there's distractions aplenty in this room. </p><p>I can't wait to see him in action again; I wonder if he's lost any of that fury he used to have when we were at school. I remember how rage-filled he was then, and to be truthful? I found it really hot in the way that I wanted to feel that speed and power and passion directed at me, in another way entirely. The way he fought had fuelled a lot of my fantasies about Dutch for a <em> very long </em> time. </p><p>Eventually they all go and get ready, and a while after that, they start. Jimmy and Bobby are up against each other, and Jimmy loses pretty fast, though he puts up enough of a fight to make it entertaining. It's not all that shocking; if I remember right, Jimmy was only a brown belt when they all quit karate anyway, and the rest of the guys were black belts. </p><p>Johnny's got Dutch and Tommy up against each other next, and that's a more equal fight.</p><p>When Dutch sweeps Tommy’s feet out from under him and chops down onto his shoulder blade, I scream with joy, pride, all that good shit. I can’t help it. I’m so far gone that I don’t give a single fuck how loud I’m being.</p><p>Ali gives me a look, like she wouldn’t be like this if her guy was up there. Although, is Dutch my guy? I don’t know. I guess this last week he has been, in most of the ways that matter. The rest seem like they might come, eventually. I can hold out a while longer.</p><p>He’s not as ferocious as I remember him being, but I’m pretty okay with it. He still looks damn good out there, bouncing around on the balls of his feet, and that energy I do remember. He holds out really well in this match, and ends up beating Tommy.</p><p>His match with Bobby ends up being harder, and I’m yelling my lungs out when he does finally score a point, but he doesn't win this round. He heads back to his corner calmly, like he didn’t used to lose his temper real bad when he lost. It’s always been a bit different with the five of them, though, and maybe that’s why. He catches my eye while Johnny’s holding Bobby’s arm up to declare the winner overall, and I give him the biggest grin I can muster. Screw it, I’m unashamed at how proud I am of him, who sees, who knows it. It’s him, and me, and nobody else matters for a second. He winks at me, with that smile on his face that’s always made my knees weak, and I nearly swoon, grabbing at Ali’s hand to ground me in reality.</p><p>The guys come together after that, and Johnny looks at Tommy, prompting him.</p><p>Tommy says, “Okay, so some of you might have noticed Johnny didn’t fight just now, but we’re not gonna let him get away with that, are we?”</p><p>He’s making a meal of this, turning around so he catches everyone’s attention. The whole room is just eating it up.</p><p>The majority of the room shouts out in unison, “No!”</p><p>“You guys wanna see some more action?” he asks.</p><p>“Yes!” we cheer back.</p><p>Jennifer and Barbara put on an <em>incredible</em> half-time show. They’re the two most athletic out of our little girl gang, and some of the things they can do with their bodies put me to shame. </p><p>Anyway, I notice Dutch looking at me a few times while all that’s going on, meeting my eyes then looking away with a smile, like I’m doing. It’s hella fucking cute, I totally can't concentrate on my friends doing their thing. </p><p>Eventually their performance comes to an end, and I’ve gotta stop flirting so Dutch can give the fight his full attention. The guys are all against Johnny, now.</p><p>Dutch, first. My heart’s in my throat because he did so good against Tommy, but Johnny was always a different breed. I hope he’s not as good as he used to be, because if he is, this could go south real fast. They bounce, loose-limbed, as they size each other up, then Dutch makes his move. There’s a punch, two, then a strike which Johnny blocks with ease, and he steps through to make contact by punching Dutch’s shoulder. It’s not as difficult for Johnny as Dutch thought it would have been, I can tell, I hear the noise of frustration he makes when he doesn't measure up, even after all this time.</p><p>Tommy’s up next and I couldn’t care less what’s happening now, because I’m watching Dutch as he watches the fight. I am lost in how gorgeous he is, in those big dark eyes, gaze intent as he’s watching Tommy get swept to the floor.</p><p>It goes like that for a bit, Johnny scoring a point and another of the guys tagging in, until it’s Dutch and Jimmy together against Johnny.  Dutch gets really fucking close to landing his kick, but ultimately doesn’t, and then in quick succession, Johnny takes them both out. Tommy and Bobby go in, and that doesn’t work out for them either. It takes a couple of rounds, but they get faster, more precise on every go and I can tell it’s getting harder for Johnny. </p><p>Tommy finally lands a punch and the crowd goes insane. </p><p>They push on, and more and more hits start to land. Maybe Johnny’s tiring, maybe the other guys are just getting better as they go. Maybe both.</p><p>I’ve gotta say, I’m <em> enthralled</em>.</p><p>Dutch lands a really great hit, this one time, and he does a little victory lap, cocky as hell. I really need him to look this way, but I’m pretty sure my enthusiastic cheers get lost in the crowd.</p><p>Jennifer declares that Johnny’s won on points, but they’re going for sudden death, four on one, as a finale.</p><p>It’s tense. </p><p>A flurry of action I can’t really follow has Dutch, Jimmy, and Tommy out before anyone knows it, and then Johnny’s circling Bobby with this look in his eyes like they both know how it’s gonna go. Once Bobby’s down, the crowd is in uproar, clapping and yelling and congratulating and commiserating. </p><p>I try to find Dutch after. He's in his gi, looking sweaty and exhausted and exhilarated, and he’s talking to some girl, and <em> you know what </em> ? I’m not having that fight with myself again. It’s gonna be what it’s gonna be, and I’m pretty sure I know <em> how </em> this is gonna go down, it’s just a matter of <em> when</em>.</p><p>I head for the beach, a little disheartened, but okay. We're taking baby steps. </p><p>Ali’s out there, plus Barbara, Aaron, and a few others. I sit down in the sand, tracing little patterns with my finger while I try and figure shit out, until I notice someone sitting down next to me, and it’s Alan from the other night.</p><p>“Hey.” he says, and he’s actually wearing a shirt this time. Good for him.</p><p>“Hi, Alan, right?”</p><p>“Yeah. That was something else, huh?” he asks.</p><p>“Yeah. Impressive, right?”</p><p>“So, I noticed you cheering for that guy, the short blond one, a lot.”</p><p>“You mean Dutch?”</p><p>“Yeah. There something going on there? I was gonna ask if you wanted to take a walk, but, I don’t wanna step on anyone’s toes.”</p><p>“Especially not dudes who could kick your ass in 3 seconds flat?” I laugh, and thankfully, Alan takes it well, and joins in with a chuckle.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”</p><p>“It’s complicated. Maybe?” I have no idea. “I’m just not up for alone time with much of anyone right now, sorry.”</p><p>Alan holds his hands up, seeming to pick up what I'm putting down. “I get it. Thanks for being cool.”</p><p>“No problem.”</p><p>And then he’s walking away and on the other side of Aaron, Johnny’s sitting down. He tries to talk to Ali a couple times, but she’s ignoring him mostly, I guess because she saw him talking to Samantha, and she <em> really </em>doesn’t like Samantha after she found out she'd been with Johnny a while ago. I don't blame her for being jealous, Samantha is beautiful, and every time we've spoken she's seemed nice. Maybe too nice for my liking, but that's not her fault. Johnny and Aaron get talking about how the matches went, and I’m half listening, kinda bored. Karate’s fun to watch, but when you get into the technicalities, the details beyond flying fists and furious kicks, it doesn’t hold my interest much.</p><p>“How’d you like the bike?” I know Johnny means earlier today, Dutch's bike.</p><p>“Real nice ride.”</p><p>“What’s this?” Aaron asks.</p><p>“Tina had a go on Dutch’s bike.”</p><p>If Aaron can see any implications there, his face doesn’t show it. “Oh, cool. What does he ride?”</p><p>“Kawasaki GPZ900R.”</p><p>That earns an especially clueless look from Aaron.</p><p>“The bike from Top Gun.” I say, which seems to fill in the blanks. </p><p>“Sweet!” </p><p>Then Johnny says, “You know you're the first girl, the first person, he ever let ride his bike, right?” </p><p>I'd be lying if I said I hadn't suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed by Johnny, who didn't have a stake in this? It was, frankly, delicious. A smirk twitches across my lips and I try to be cool about how self-satisfied I'm feeling right now. </p><p>“Oh yeah?” </p><p>“Absolutely.” </p><p>“Thanks for inviting me, that day.”</p><p>It's like we're having another conversation entirely in the things we aren't saying. I wanna thank him for more than just the invite, but, I don't know anything for certain. I can't be sure. I just know something changed between me getting on Dutch's bike, and me getting off it, and Johnny was the one talking to him in between.</p><p>“No problem.” Johnny says, smiling. </p><p>Maybe twenty minutes have passed by the time Dutch finally comes down the steps. </p><p>“There you all are,” he says, but his eyes linger on me a little longer than they need to.</p><p>I'm really glad he hasn't decided to go with yet another girl. My relief at that is near overwhelming.</p><p>He walks around in front of me and squats, leaning into his forearms on his knees, to talk to me. He's changed out of his gi, into his bike gear from the afternoon, sturdy blue Levis and leather jacket.</p><p>His eyes are on mine and oh God, I want him so bad that it hurts. </p><p>“You wanna go for another ride?” he asks. </p><p>“Sure,” I say, and I might actually die of frustration depending on how he answers this, but I wanna be certain before I let the butterflies in my stomach go completely nuts, so I gotta ask. “With everyone, again?” </p><p>“Nah,” Dutch replies, and my heart is hammering away so hard that I can hear it in my ears while he’s talking. “I was thinking just you and me.”</p><p>I’m breathless, we’re both aware we have an audience, and all I can think to do is ask, “Oh yeah?”</p><p>He looks down at my feet, then back up to meet my eyes, and I can tell I’ve made him as nervous as I’m feeling now. Good. He deserves to suffer a little bit after all it took me to get him here. “Yeah, I mean, if you want to.”</p><p>My voice drops an octave, softer and quieter and deeper with desire and anticipation, “We gonna go on your bike?”</p><p>His tone matches mine. “That’s what I was thinking.”</p><p>I smile, victorious, and he matches that too, maybe a little relieved that I’m not gonna turn him down. As if I would ever do something so <em> profoundly </em> fucking moronic. </p><p>He stands up and offers me his hand, and I take it even though I don’t really need to, while I stand up. We let go pretty much straight away, because I don’t know, it doesn’t seem right to walk out of this party holding hands, even though I’m fairly certain what we’re about to do is way more intimate than that. But that's between us for now. </p><p>“Bye, guys.” I say to the group, and Dutch gives them a little wave, then we’re walking up towards the steps, a little closer than we really need to be, and I’m zipping up my jacket.</p><p>Dutch seems a bit like he’s lost for words, but that’s cool. This is new to him in some ways, I guess, cos fucking a girl who’s actually his friend isn’t something I’ve known him to do, ever. But this is new to me too, since I’ve never fucked someone that I’ve felt this way about, either. </p><p>We get inside the house and I have a sudden, brilliant idea. </p><p>“Why don't I meet you round the back? I need to use the bathroom.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, so go read <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27778042">Riding</a> now.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Kiss Me Red</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dutch and Tina come back from their ride, and figure some things out.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This covers the second half of Chapter 10 of Malibu.</p><p>Please leave a comment and tell me what you enjoyed most. From this point on things will slightly diverge away from the party-structure of Malibu, and we'll start to pan out a bit into Tina's life. </p><p>Malibu is Johnny's story, but this one's Tina's, and for the real depth of her relationship with her beloved Dutch, we have to get into what makes her tick. We need to see why she, a confident, passionate, albeit slightly nutty young woman would see something in Dutch that even his own friends don't always.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dutch takes us back to Jimmy's with me riding pillion, cos my legs still feel like they're made of jello, and I don't trust myself to ride his bike when I can barely support my own weight.</p><p><em>Of course</em> he plays fast and loose with the notion of the speed limit on the way back, and there’s no traffic, so it’s just us and the road. He’s a really talented rider, accounting for my extra weight on the bike instinctively, still keeping the beautiful control and efficiency he’d shown solo. Fuck, that's hot. How is everything he does so damn <em>hot</em>?</p><p>I’ve got one hand resting on his waist, and the other on the grab rail, cos it feels good to ride with him like that - a compromise between feeling confident in my position and being able to touch him. Leaning back a bit, I've got a better view anyway; I wanna be where I can see the road, instead of staring at the back of his helmet. </p><p>I keep my grip on Dutch light, but fuck me, I am never gonna want to let him go now. </p><p>There's a soreness setting in, as the seam of my jeans pushes uncomfortably against my underwear with the movement of the bike, and it’s reminding me that despite myself, I <em> kinda </em> wanna go again, even if it’s gonna make it hard to walk right tomorrow. I can’t stop thinking about how good he was, how his hands felt pretty much everywhere on my body. I am hooked. </p><p>My brain’s whirring with ideas for what I’m gonna do next when we’re pulling up outside Jimmy’s, having made it back in record time. I dismount when Dutch seems ready, then I get my helmet off, ball my gloves up inside so I don’t lose them. Dutch is doing the same a second after, and we’re not really looking at each other. </p><p>Worry starts to set in as I realize we’ve gotta go back into that party and face our friends, and even though he said he wants to be with me again, I don’t know how far that's gonna extend. He looks back at me, and it’s like looking in a mirror. I can tell he doesn’t know what the fuck’s going on here either. I’m gonna ask, but I've gotta try fucking hard to keep my voice neutral. </p><p>“How we gonna play this?”</p><p>“You don’t care if they know, do you?” he asks, and there’s a little flash of something vulnerable there, covered in an instant.</p><p>“Why would I? I just got my brains screwed out by the hottest guy here, <em> and </em> he liked it enough to promise me a repeat performance. Besides, I'm pretty sure they already do, since I left my shirt in the upstairs bathroom.”</p><p>That gets a laugh, and he takes me by the hand to pull me close. The way he kisses me this time is so much softer, sweeter, than I ever dared to dream, and when he lets me go, my head’s spinning. My eyes aren’t focussed at all as I look up at him, my glasses are smudged, and it takes me a long moment to get a hold of myself.</p><p>His lips are inches from mine when he murmurs, “You should go get it.”</p><p>Dutch opens the door to usher me inside, and I make a beeline for the bathroom upstairs, grabbing my shirt and bra from where I’d shoved them into the cupboard beneath the sink. Once I’m dressed again, I give myself a quick once-over in the mirror. At least I don’t <em> look </em> like he fucked me stupid, though he really, most certainly did, and I'm glad the state of my hair can easily be explained away by my helmet.</p><p>Downstairs, he’s waiting for me, standing with a group of people, so I go and squeeze my way into the little circle. I'm trying to burn the image of him looking at me, like I'm a miracle from on high, straight onto the backs of my retinas when he says, “Hey, Tina.” </p><p>He slides his arm around my shoulders, pulling me flush against his side, and jumps right back into his conversation with Greg and Tommy.</p><p>Tommy doesn’t really seem to react to that, so Dutch must have talked it over with him beforehand, at some point. I can only begin to imagine how that conversation would have gone. Greg’s pretending not to have noticed, I guess since Tommy didn’t say anything, but he’s not doing a great job, smirking and looking pretty much everywhere but directly at me. I’ve gotta get him playing poker, cos he’d be an easy mark.</p><p>I catch Connie with a puzzled expression for half a second, until she sees the beaming grin break out on my face, and she <em> knows </em> I already got mine. She rolls her eyes, but she cracks a little smile of her own.</p><p>“You're unbelievable.” she mouths at me.</p><p>What is unbelievable is that after four and a half years of pining, longing, and fucking other people to forget this guy, he's got his arm around me in a room full of our friends and he's pretty openly acknowledging that he <em>likes</em> me. Holy shit. I'm on <em>cloud</em> <em>moth-er-fuck-ing</em> <em>nine</em>. </p><p>Dutch's arm feels so<em> good </em> around me and the way his fingers are tracing the line of my collarbone while he's talking is driving me crazy, so fucking sweet and hot and everything I've needed for so long. I can't resist resting my hand against his stomach through his shirt. God, he's so warm, like a furnace. </p><p>I’m starting to <em> really </em> wanna get out of here, explore every inch of him I didn’t get to see and feel earlier, but he's still talking to Greg about one of his fights. I wanna say I'm putting in the effort to look interested, but my mind is elsewhere. What can I say? Busy, <em> busy </em> brain.</p><p>I slip my other hand into his back pocket and squeeze his ass, because I've been dying to do that for far too long. The expression on his face while he's talking to Greg falters a bit, and he makes the most of a natural lull in their conversation to look down at me, eyebrow raised, dark brown eyes almost sparkling. </p><p>“You want something?”</p><p>“<em>Always</em>.” </p><p>I can see out the corner of my eye that Connie's trying to suppress a laugh, because she's seen me play this game with guys before and she knows it rarely fails. </p><p>“You want me to take you home?” </p><p>“Yeah, I guess I do.”</p><hr/><p>We ride side-by-side most of the way back to the Valley, and it's possibly the most romantic thing I could imagine. It's just the two of us, the sound of our engines, the road in front of us, and the moonlight, and I don't think anywhere in the world could ever hope to be this beautiful. </p><p>A bit over half an hour later, and we're pulling up outside my dad's house in Arleta. The lights are on, so I guess I don't have to sneak inside, but I can't really sneak Dutch in either. I’d been hoping I’d be able to.</p><p>We get our helmets and gloves off. Dutch is leaning against his bike, and I'm struck again by how goddamn <em> perfect </em> he is. I step right into his space, like it's mine to occupy, and look right into his eyes. Oh, <em> wow. </em></p><p>“I'd invite you in, but my dad's home. Am I gonna see you at the party on Wednesday?”</p><p>“You can see me whenever you want, sweetheart.” he says, and my heart is doing somersaults.</p><p>I can't resist the urge to kiss him again, it’s totally fucking impossible. I wrap my arms around his neck and lean my whole body into his as I claim his mouth. It's hot, a little forceful, everything I'd ever dared to hope for, every time. Between the layers of denim and leather, I'm not getting anything specific, but he feels exquisite anyway. I want him in me again so bad, and knowing my bedroom is so close but not an option <em> hurts.  </em></p><p>We break the kiss to breathe, and that gives me a chance to start working my way down his jaw, to where I can lick and kiss and nip at the side of his neck, below his ear. He lets out this breathy sigh, rocks his hips against me, and I can tell he's as into this as I am. What a rush.</p><p>“<em>Fuuuck</em>.” he groans, squirming under me, so I guess I found something that feels real good. “I have work tomorrow. I need to go. Fuck, I wanna spend all night inside you, baby.”</p><p>There's a little pause while we're still breathing heavily, and I can tell he's trying to collect himself enough to go. I'd hoped at least we could sit on the porch for a while and enjoy the shooting stars, which I'm pretty sad I missed out on. Priorities, though, huh?</p><p>“Gimme your number,” he says, “and I'll call you after work.”</p><p>I'm smiling against his neck, because yeah, I really want that too. I take a step back, giving us both some space, starting to feel like some kinda superhero for planning ahead as I fish around in my jacket pocket for the little scrap of paper that I'd scribbled my phone number on before we left Jimmy's, just in case. </p><p>“Here,” I say, pushing it into the palm of his hand and curling his fingers back up over it. “don't lose it.” </p><p>Dutch smirks at me, and oh dear god, I am so far gone for this asshole, it’s almost annoying. I step back a bit more, so he can start putting his helmet and gloves back on.</p><p>“I’ll see you around.”</p><p>I watch him straddle his bike and take off into the night, standing there a while longer than I need, before I walk up the driveway to the house.</p><p>Inside, my Dad is watching TV, a rerun of M*A*S*H, with a beer in one hand, cigarette in the other, like he tends to. </p><p>“Hey, Bean,” he calls when he hears me open the door. “Late one?”</p><p>I'm tired, but I'm way too happy to sleep just yet, like a kid on a sugar high. I take off my jacket and wander through to the living room, so I can flop down on the couch and start unlacing my boots.</p><p>My mom's never really been around, usually on some free spirit hippy shit, hanging out in super-isolated villages in Peru where they don't have phones or regular postal service whenever you need her, so it was pretty much just my Dad and me my whole life. He's always done the boy-talks, and I guess I get some of my attitude from that. I know half the reason I can hold my own with Dutch and his friends is him.</p><p>“You're never gonna guess what happened tonight.” I say, and okay, I'm not gonna give him the gory details, but he can handle the PG-13 version.</p><p>Dad looks away from the TV to me, “So are you going to tell me, or what?”</p><p>I've gotta psych myself up for this a bit, so I take longer than usual getting my boots off.</p><p>“You remember that guy I used to like, at school, right? The one who was into karate.”  </p><p>I hadn't liked many boys around then, so it's a safe bet he'd remember. </p><p>“Ali's boyfriend's friend?” </p><p>I think about correcting him, that Johnny's Ali's ex-boyfriend, but I don't bother. It's not relevant. “Yeah, that's the one. So, we've been going to the same parties, the ones that his friend Jimmy's throwing at his place In Malibu. We've gotten to know each other a bit.”</p><p>“And that's going well?”</p><p>“Yeah. I think he likes me.” Understatement of the century, there, after how Dutch had kissed me earlier, but… </p><p>“So he finally came to his senses, after how long? Hope he's worth the wait. That's a lot for a guy to live up to.”</p><p>“I dunno, he might be. You'd like him, I think. He’s super into his car, and real good on a bike.”</p><p>“You saying you want to bring him around?” </p><p>I shrug. “Maybe. I'm just saying we had a good time today.”</p><p>He gives me a warning look. “As long as you were safe.”</p><p>“Jesus, Dad, I'm not talking about <em> that </em>.” </p><p>“You’re a woman now, don't expect me to act like you're not getting up to all kinds of no good.” he laughs, because this is my dad, and he's matter-of-fact and practical about everything, even when it grosses me out.</p><p>Okay, so considering what Dutch and I did today, he's not far off the mark. “I’m not <em> you </em> , I’m only getting up to <em> most </em>kinds of no good.”</p><p>“Ouch, low blow.” Dad says, with mock-offense etched into every line on his face.</p><p>“Yeah, well, you deserve it.”</p><p>“So you like him too, still?”</p><p>I nod, again, because there's no words that describe what I'm actually feeling. <em> Like </em> will do in a pinch. </p><p>“Why don’t you invite him over for Christmas, since it's just us?”</p><p>I hadn't even considered that; we normally don't do anything for Christmas. Our limit on holiday spirit is eating too much food and drinking beers in front of the TV. This might be a good excuse to decorate a bit, I guess.</p><p>“He’s probably busy, but I’ll think about it. Thanks, Dad. I’m gonna head to bed. You need any help at work tomorrow?”</p><p>Dad shakes his head, and says, “We're fine. Night, Bean.”</p><p>“Night, Dad.”</p><hr/><p>I'm undressed, jeans and t-shirt and underwear discarded in a crumpled heap in the corner, and I'm getting into bed when the phone rings. I reach across to grab the handset off my nightstand before my dad can get the one in the hall, thinking it's probably gonna be Connie, or maybe Barbara. I'd seen Barbara rolling her eyes at me, albeit affectionately, as I left the party with Dutch. Maybe she'd wanna know what happened.</p><p>“Hi, is Tina there?” says a familiar, deeply delicious voice on the other end of the line.</p><p>I close my eyes and smile, happily surprised.</p><p>“Hey, Dutch. I thought you were gonna call tomorrow.” </p><p>“I will. Wanted to check I had the right number.”</p><p>“Well, you do.”</p><p>There's a little pause before he says, “I can't stop thinking about earlier.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah? Me neither.”</p><p>“You sure you really wanna do that again?” There's something a little hopeful in there, and I realize he's asking for reassurance.</p><p>“I suppose we can switch it up a little,” I tease, “but yeah, pretty much. I had fun, didn't you?”</p><p>He laughs, and somehow sounds relieved. “Hell yes.”</p><p>I find myself laughing along with him. “Good.”</p><p>“What are you doing? You in bed?” he asks.</p><p>“Yeah, I'm in bed. Are you?”</p><p>“Yeah, same.”</p><p>Oh, I <em> like </em> where this is heading. </p><p>“What are you wearing now?” I keep my voice light, trying to sound innocent. </p><p>His soft laugh is just <em> gorgeous</em>. “We really doing this?” </p><p>“C'mon, humor me.”</p><p>He huffs out a breath and I can hear him settling in, getting comfortable. “Just in my shorts.”</p><p>“That how you sleep?”</p><p>“Usually. What are you wearing?” </p><p>“Nothing.” I say, and it's mostly true. I've got the sheets pulled up around my chest but aside from that...</p><p>I hear his breath catch in his throat. “Is that how <em> you </em> sleep?”</p><p>“<em>Usually</em>.” At this point, my voice is a purr. </p><p>“Mmm,” he hums approvingly, “so when am I gonna get to see that?” </p><p>“Maybe you could come over after the party on Wednesday?”</p><p>“Maybe I could.” </p><p>“Oh, that reminds me, I wanted to ask if you've got plans for Christmas. It's okay if you're busy.”</p><p>“Nothing planned. Maybe see Tommy in the evening. My family's not really the holiday type.” </p><p>Now that he mentions it, I vaguely recall hearing something along those lines from Ali, way back when, more or less that Dutch didn't have a great home life. I can't remember much more than that, but it rings true.</p><p>“You wanna spend Christmas here?” I ask. </p><p>“Nah, I wouldn't wanna get in the way.”</p><p>“You wouldn't be. It's just me and my dad. I'd like you here, if you're up for it? You can still go see Tommy in the evening, if you want.” I add, just to cover all bases.</p><p>He waits just long enough for me to worry if I've jumped the gun by inviting him at all, before he answers, “Sure, alright. Sounds fun.”</p><p>“It's late,” I say, yawning. “but I'll speak to you tomorrow?”</p><p>“Yeah. Sweet dreams, Tina.”</p><hr/><p>I'm glad I already got him a gift, even if I wasn't sure if I'd be able to follow through and give it to him til tonight. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Lipstick and Leather</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dutch and Tina get distracted. </p><p>This chapter happens alongside the events of Chapter 11 of Malibu, on Christmas Eve.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dutch came straight from work to pick me up for the party tonight, so I guess this is happening now. We're seeing each other, taking the same vehicle places, knowing we're leaving together. Once we make it to Jimmy’s, we’ve barely gotten our helmets off when he straddles his bike the wrong way round, then taps the seat in front of him.</p><p>“C'mere baby,” he says, and when his voice drops into that low, soft growl, I am <em> powerless</em>. “put that perfect ass up here.”</p><p>He's doing it again, looking like he can see into my soul with those big brown eyes, and talking in the way that he's gotta know is gonna get me ready like <em>now</em>. I'm tingling all over, and it's all his fault. </p><p>I swing my leg over, so I'm kinda climbing into his lap, with my legs over his and my boots up on the foot pegs. </p><p>His mouth is on mine before I know it, teasing at first, tasting my lips and tongue like he's warming me up for what we're gonna do later, when I've got him all to myself in my bed. </p><p>I need more, though, always do with Dutch, so it's not long before we're full-on making out like our lives depend on it, and who knows? Maybe they do. If he ever stops kissing me like this I'm pretty sure I will die.</p><p>We're still holding onto our helmets, by some miracle, but I've got my other hand in the hair at the back of his head and it feels like silk. He groans softly into my mouth as I drag my short nails over the nape of his neck. It's incredible.</p><p>We're the only two people in the world, for a long time, until I'm mindlessly grinding in his lap, and I'm worried he's not gonna be able to keep the bike steady if I rock any harder against him. If we land on the ground in a heap right now, I'm definitely not gonna be able to chase the feeling that's got the edges of my mind hazy already. </p><p>I break the kiss so I can get some space between us, but when he chases my mouth with his it makes me wanna throw caution to the wind and keep going til I'm seeing stars.</p><p>“Dutch, please, I'm gonna… <em> ah.</em>”</p><p>“You're gonna what, Tina?” </p><p>His gaze is determined, and he's got his free hand on my thigh, fingers digging in hard.</p><p>
  <em> He knows what. </em>
</p><p>“You gonna get off like this?”</p><p>I can't believe he's doing this to me, he's barely touched me, I'm fully dressed. It's all too much, the friction from my jeans, the bike, and everything that is him - broad shoulders, gorgeous voice, beautiful, <em> talented </em> mouth. </p><p><em> Fuck</em>. I really am close. Is he actually gonna let me get off here, where anyone could see? Oh I'm in deep, deep trouble, and I'm loving it.</p><p>He senses the moment when I start to get desperate and he kisses me again, all the way through it, muffling my gasps and moans into more plausible sounds.</p><p>I'm coming down and feeling shaky, my arm's tired where I held onto my helmet through that whole ordeal, and he's soothing everything away with gentle praise.</p><p>“You're so beautiful, sweetheart, love watching you come apart for me,” he whispers into my ear. </p><p>I'm barely registering it, just floating on a cloud of post-orgasmic bliss, lost in the sound of his sweet nothings rather than the content. Slowly, <em> so slowly, </em> I am coming back to reality and becoming painfully aware that I'm gonna have to feel how wet I am for most of this evening, so that's not gonna help. Yeah, we're going home early.</p><p>But we're here, and I'm pretty sure I heard the door open and close somewhere there when I was too distracted to care, so someone probably knows we're here too. </p><p>No excuses. We've gotta go in, and stay for a few drinks at least. It takes us a few minutes to calm down enough, mostly for Dutch’s benefit, cos the hard line of his dick is <em> very </em> apparent in his jeans when we manage to dismount the bike.</p><p>I've gotta be looking flushed and outright <em> giddy </em> as we walk in, and Dutch isn't looking any less pleased with himself than I am.</p><p>Bobby catches my eye with a knowing look, so I guess that's who was behind the door situation. Pretty much everyone mingles for a while, and we end up chatting with a few different groups. At least Tommy's being a little more friendly with me than usual when we end up talking to him, Greg, and Johnny again. </p><p>I'm on my way back from grabbing beers for the group when I bump into Tommy on his own.</p><p>“Hey, you need a hand with that?” he asks. </p><p><em> Well, </em>this is something. I hand over a couple bottles, since I’d had a pretty precarious hold on them in the first place. “Sure, thanks.”</p><p>I'm not sure how to approach this, so I spend too long looking for my opening, and he beats me to it.</p><p>“You and Dutch, huh?” </p><p>“Yeah, I guess so.”</p><p>“He said you invited him to dinner tomorrow?”</p><p>“I did, it’s just me and my dad, so it’ll be nice to have someone else there. I don’t have a lot of family.”</p><p>“Dutch doesn’t either…” Tommy nods, looking at me like he’s really thinking. Then he says, “You sure move fast.”</p><p><br/>
Okay, it’s kinda weird having this conversation, where he’s doing everything but ask what my intentions are. It’s hard not to get defensive, but that’s the exact opposite of how I need this to go, so…</p><p>“Maybe, but it’s not like we make a big deal of holidays, and I think he’ll like my dad. We haven’t even been on a real date, so I'm not trying to make it a big thing.” </p><p>I hope I sound even a little convincing, because I’m not fooling myself totally. I really want my dad and Dutch to get along. </p><p>“Right. If you say so.” His expression is completely unreadable, and it’s making me nervous.</p><p><br/>
I take a deep breath, looking for the courage to say what I’ve been working myself up to all day. “Look, I know I've been shitty since Susan broke things off with you, but I don’t want things to be like that if I’m seeing Dutch.”</p><p>“Me neither. I wish she’d chill out a bit.” Tommy gives me this sorta rueful smile when he says that.</p><p>I’m pretty sure they both regret how all that went, but old, deep hurt like theirs is hard to heal. Takes a lotta guts, a lotta vulnerability to push through. Maybe another couple could, but not these two, not right now.</p><p>“She’s got her reasons, y'know? I'm not sure I can do much to get you back in her good graces, but, truce?”</p><p>“Yeah, truce.”</p><p>Some rearranging of the drinks we’re carrying, and we shake on it, and I’m hoping this is at least the <em> start </em> of Tommy being a bit more okay with me being around. It’ll make things a bunch easier if we can be friendly, like things are with Johnny.</p><p>There's murmurings of a drinking game, around the room and I dunno, that has the potential to go badly this early in the evening. But when have I ever backed out of potential trouble? </p><p>There's about twenty or so people gathered on and around the sofas, people squeezed tight enough that it's just easier to sit across Dutch's lap. I'm not sure that's the smartest idea I've ever had, when he starts stroking the outside of my thigh while I'm trying to pay attention to what other people are saying. </p><p>So the game goes like this; someone asks a question, and you've got the choice to either answer honestly, or pass. If you pass, you drink. Basically, it's an alcoholic game of chicken with your own sense of shame. And thankfully, in this instance, I am <em> shameless</em>. It's made all the more exciting by the fact Dutch is too. We're the center of attention for a couple rounds, especially when someone asks what the most embarrassing sexual experience we’ve ever had is. </p><p>I am delightfully sober when I answer, “So, senior year, my dad took on an apprentice. Kind of an idiot, but we spent a lot of time together in the shop, mostly over the winter after I turned eighteen. I was bored and horny, you know how it goes. Turns out, if you're screaming into an engine bay while dude is balls deep, it doesn't exactly <em> muffle </em> the sound. I'm not proud of this, but he quit after he realized we weren't the only two people who heard.”</p><p>Dutch's laugh vibrates through me, and when the assorted giggles are dying down, he comes in with his own story.</p><p>“Nobody here, but I may have been almost caught with some chick in the stairwell outside Jenkins’ art room. Poor guy didn't know what was going on. Said I was fishing around on the floor looking for her earring. Man, I'm just glad she was wearing a skirt. Woulda been harder to explain why I was on my knees if she'd had her jeans round her ankles.” </p><p>He's got this outright filthy grin on his face while he's saying it, and when he bites his lip again I'm thinking about all the wonderful things that mouth could be doing to me.</p><p>When he whispers “You wanna get outta here?” into my ear at the start of the next round, we quietly slip out the back.</p>
<hr/><p>The sun’s well on its way to setting, and it’s mild for this time of year, so I’ve got my bedroom window wide open, and it’s letting in a beautiful breeze while we relax on my bed. We've got the house to ourselves, cos my dad's gone out for Christmas drinks with the guys from work.</p><p>Dutch ends up tracing the line of my shin with his fingertips as he sits next to me. I love how tactile he is, he can't stop touching me, like he's gotta keep reminding himself we're real.</p><p>“You good?” he asks, voice soft, looking into my eyes.</p><p>“Mmm, yeah. Could not be more chilled out right now.”</p><p>Dutch raises his eyebrows, then he's looking for something in his shirt pocket. “You sure about that?”</p><p>He pulls out a joint, pre-rolled, so perfectly timed that my mouth bypasses my brain with an “Oh, <em> baby.” </em></p><p>His laugh then is addictive, I'd do anything to hear it again, but he's busy lighting up. <em> Of course </em> he carries an old Zippo, scratched from heavy use, definitely a lot older than he's been smoking. I wonder whose it was first. </p><p>“Glad we left early?” he asks, and I shrug.</p><p>I couldn't care less about <em> anything </em> else while I'm watching his lips purse, the tension in him as he holds his breath, then the smoke spilling out of his beautiful mouth when he releases it. I take the joint when it's offered, and we pass it back and forth for a while, staring at my textured ceiling. I know I can't let this end. Not this, because the twilight will slip away and it'll be totally dark before we know it, but <em> this. </em></p><p><em> Us.</em> </p><p>I'm falling hard, aren't I? How could I do anything else, when he looks at me like that? </p><p>I'm getting buzzed, and a little giggly, and somewhere in between everything, we end up in each other’s arms, a tangle of limbs. He's kissing me like he wants it to go on forever. As much as I love it when he kisses me hard and dirty and desperate, this is a glimpse into something else we could have. Something I haven't dared want.</p><p>Until now.</p><p>I still owe him one from earlier, on the bike, and I can feel he’s halfway hard as we move against each other, kisses getting sloppy and hands starting to roam. I dunno how to say what I’m feeling, but I’m hoping I don’t need to as I push him onto his back, head sinking into my pillows, and I slide down his body.</p><p>My fingers find the buckle of his belt, which falls open with a satisfying clink, then I can pop open the buttons of his jeans, and he’s looking at me like he can’t believe I exist. Again. Shoot me if I ever start taking that for granted. </p><p>“Fuck, Tina…” he gasps when I push his shirt up to kiss his stomach, moving down alongside the trail of golden hair leading into his boxers. My hair's fallen forward, a cascade of dark brown strands caressing his skin as I move lower still.</p><p>He's so fucking gorgeous under me I feel like my head's gonna fucking explode any second. I've gotta make him <em> mine </em> in just about every way I know how, and this one has been top of my list since I saw him lie back on that picnic table.</p><p>I don’t have it in me to feel nervous right now, not while I’m reaching inside to pull him out of his boxers. He's not quite <em> there </em> yet, but I know that's not gonna last long. I'm so glad we’re alone in the house, so I don’t have to worry about any noise we’re making, especially as I’m leaning down to kiss the shaft of his dick, softly, tenderly, my lips fluttering over his velvet-soft skin. </p><p>He twitches against my mouth and it's <em> overwhelming </em> how powerful I feel getting him hard this way. I kiss my way all the way to the tip, looking up at him, wondering if I could come again just from watching his face while I do this. He's so fucking beautiful, so perfect, so incredible, and <em> mine</em>, and it’s almost a prayer when I’m thinking <em> dear God, I hope he knows just how much I adore him. </em> I take him onto my tongue, enveloping him with my lips, and holy shit. My head is spinning once more as I feel him harden in my mouth. <em> Fuck. </em></p><p>I put my hands on his hips for balance, elbows and forearms resting along his thighs, and I swear I can feel him trembling. He winds his hand back into my hair, and fucking <em> hell, </em>I can’t deal, I am <em> lost</em>. He’s got a fistful of hair at the nape of my neck and his hold is <em> so </em> fucking tight it's rocking my world.</p><p>“Please, baby, I wanna see that pretty face.” he’s all but <em> begging.</em></p><p><em>I am</em> <em> fucked. So thoroughly fucked</em>. I push my hair back, letting him adjust his grip so he’s holding it all away from my face, and then I’m looking back at him. I love that his gorgeous brown eyes are a different shade to mine. They’re deeper, darker, like melted chocolate, smooth and glossy, like the night sky against the glow of orange streetlights, like the best thing I've ever seen.</p><p>I pop off with a noise that is, frankly, pornographic. </p><p>“Fuck my mouth.” I command, with a desperate edge that brooks no argument. None at all. Not even for a second.</p><p>He’s thrusting up into my mouth, taking total control, almost too deep. I let my jaw slacken and my throat relax, so I can let him take what belongs to him. I wanna make a sound, but I can’t risk the movement, and it’s just wet, nasty, <em> dirty </em>noises as he makes my head move up and down on his cock. I can feel how much this is doing for him, the noises he's making are incredible. It’s such a fucking rush, so much that he’s got me breathing heavily through my nose.</p><p>“Tina, baby, <em>sweetheart</em>,” he’s wantonly gasping barely-conscious words that are shockingly affectionate considering what he's doing to me. The juxtaposition is so fucking hot it's insane. </p><p>I know it’s good, beyond good, he’s getting <em> close, </em> and this whole night has been building to something unbelievable from the second he arrived to collect me, looking and smelling like heaven, this afternoon. I wanna encourage him, wanna tell him <em> come on, babe, fuck my face, fuck me like you mean it, </em> but well, you know a lady doesn’t talk with her mouth full. Not that I’m <em> any </em> kinda lady, especially not at this point.<br/>
Shit, <em> I need this. </em></p><p>He’s pistoning into my throat, and it’s <em> so </em> hard not to gag, the salty taste of him tainting my saliva, which is <em> everywhere. </em> I’ve never given a blowjob like this before, don’t know that I <em> could </em>for anyone else. </p><p>He's so tense, shaking beneath me while he keeps going way past the point where either of us could be comfortable. There's an ache in my thighs, my back, and my neck where he's holding me with a grip so tight it's like he's trying not to let me slip away into the aether. Then he's going, going… <em> Gone.</em> I'm being flooded with his release, taken over by it. I gag on that, choking a little, but we’re both so fucked up in the moment that it barely matters. </p><p>When he comes down, cursing and panting, I'm feeling that pleasant ache somewhere deep inside that means I <em> could </em>go again, but I don't really need to. I'm satisfied.</p><p>It's getting real dark now. I can hardly believe we just did that. Everything is so <em> messy. Fuck it. </em>I end up taking my shirt off to clean us up and throwing it across the room.</p><p>Dutch is still looking at me like I'm impossible, and I actually fucking giggle at that coquettishly. I'm not even capable of that kinda shy, sweet demeanor on a regular day, but somehow he’s just completely fried my brain until I'm acting like... I dunno. I'm not myself after that. </p><p>We’re both pretty tired now, so I guess it’s not so bad that we finish our night by stripping lazily, carelessly, dropping my glasses on the nightstand, and sliding into bed together. He's all soft kisses and affectionate nuzzling, stuff that I couldn’t have even imagined happening until the second it does. I need him so bad in every way that I just fall further and further into him, drinking in anything he'll give me with the dedication he deserves. </p><p>I'm half-asleep, face buried in the curve of his shoulder, when I wonder who else has ever seen this side of Dutch? Who else has he trusted like this? Over four years of knowing him, watching from the outside looking in, I've seen a lot of good in him. Lotta bad too, but the good usually makes up for it. Aside from his wicked sense of humor, which has only gotten better, he's passionate, and loyal, and he'll fight just about anyone for the people he loves. It seems impossible that any girl could see all I'm seeing and ever let him get away.</p><p>I'd do just about anything to keep him.</p><p>“Dutch?” I ask, not even sure what I want to say beyond that. </p><p>“Yeah?” it's a sleepy mumble, and I might have woken him by accident.</p><p>I so want to ask if he's falling in love with me, like I am him, but I can't. We've been together <em>twice</em>. I've had four and a half years to get my head around loving him, he's had a week, tops.</p><p>“Sleep well.” I say instead.</p><p>He makes a noise, not even words, and pulls me closer still. That's enough, I guess.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Leather and Lace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Christmas Day 1986. Tina gives her dad some bad news. Dutch gives Tina something special. </p><p>Takes place in the gap between Malibu 11 and 12.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When I open my eyes it's dark. The bedroom is cold, cos we left the window open all night, but Dutch is so<em>, so </em> warm under the covers with me. I can hear him softly snoring, his breath ruffling my hair, and I'd love to stay like this all day and listen to the noises he makes in his sleep. But I can't. I really need to pee.</p><p>Reluctantly, I extricate myself from his arms and slide out of bed. His work shirt is the closest and most recognisable thing on the floor, and… <em> Should </em> I? Is it gonna be weird? </p><p>But it's right <em>there</em> and I know it's gonna smell like him and his backpack is in the corner with a change of clothes for today, so he's got other options. I slip the polo shirt over my head and it's just <em>the</em> <em>best thing. </em>I've got some soft cotton shorts out, so I throw them on too.</p><p>Sneaking out of my room and up the hall is easy enough, and I manage to pee and brush my teeth before I can see the first glow of the sun rising out the bathroom window, so it's probably near seven. May as well be up for the day.</p><p>The whole house is quiet, as I make my way through to the kitchen. Out the window, I can see my dad's car parked outside. Dutch's bike is in the garage, along with mine. I realize, strangely out of nowhere, that I like this feeling I'm having, as I fill the coffee maker and set it going. I'm<em> happy. </em></p><p>The night before last, Dad and I had spent the evening decorating the house for the first time in years. He went out and bought a real tree for the living room, I dug the box of Christmas shit out of the loft, and a few hours later, the house was covered in gaudy colored foil, glass, and glitter, twinkling fairy lights, with a handful of presents under the tree.</p><p>I want this to be how things are all the time. I want this good, full, satisfied feeling in my chest to stick around forever.</p><p>My mind was already well on its way to being made up before Dutch came back onto the scene, but now? The idea of going back to college and spending another three and a half miserable years pushing through just for what? To say I'd done it? To be the first in my family?</p><p>
  <em> Screw that.  </em>
</p><p>There's a noise somewhere in the hall, a door opening softly, footsteps heading in my direction. I turn to see Dutch, just wearing his jeans from the night before. Shirtless, barefoot, hair a mess and this perfect, heart-stoppingly <em> gorgeous </em>smile on his face when he looks at me. I could cry. I could die. Both are options, equally valid.</p><p>His voice is gravelly with sleep when he whispers, “Morning, sweetheart.”</p><p>Oh, good god. How is he <em> mine? </em></p><p>“Coffee?” I ask, smiling back at him, my heart fluttering.</p><p>“Yeah, thanks.”</p><p>I get down two cups out of habit, and have to go back for a third, which I put to the side for my dad while I pour. I add a couple sugars to mine, stir, and the smell of hot coffee filling the kitchen is so damn good I've gotta take it all in with a deep breath like a goddamn Folgers commercial. </p><p>Dutch puts his hand on my waist, so warm I'm in awe of it.</p><p>“You look good in my shirt.” he says, running his fingers across the fabric. He’s feeling the curve of my body beneath as I turn to face him properly, back up against the counter. </p><p>“<em>You</em> look better out of it.” I reply. </p><p>This slow, sexy smirk spreads across his face and I'm desperate to kiss it clean off. The thought seems to occur to him too, because he's stepping up to me and taking the cup out of my hands to put it on the counter, then he's got me pinned there, and he's looking down at me like he's gonna do bad, bad things to me right there in the kitchen. </p><p>I can't take my eyes off his mouth, totally transfixed as he leans in. His hand tangles in the hair at the back of my head, holding me still when his lips meet mine, and my whole body feels like it's on fire. My eyelids flutter closed. I vaguely, distantly register a soft moan being dragged right out of my throat. Oh, god, oh fuck. </p><p>His free hand is working its way up my side, over til he's palming my chest, feeling me up like it's his job. <em> Fucking hell</em>.</p><p>There's a creaking sound from the hallway.</p><p>I shove against Dutch's shoulder, a little harder than I meant to, but it has him pulling back like I need, although looking confused.</p><p>“My dad's awake.” I whisper. </p><p>Realization dawns on him, and it's almost funny how he stands straighter, ready to <em> try </em> and be polite.</p><p>“Sure am.” Dad says, as he's coming round into the kitchen. He's got a t-shirt and jeans on, looking more put together and ready to face the day than either of us. “Smelled coffee, so knew you were up. Merry Christmas, Beans.”</p><p>Dutch gives me this puzzled look, probably cos of the nickname, and I roll my eyes at him.</p><p>“And you must be Dutch?” </p><p>“Yes, sir. Nice to meet you, sir.” </p><p>My dad looks at him, then to me, then starts laughing. “He always like this? Looking like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar.”</p><p>“I think that’s just your influence, Dad.”</p><p>Dutch is, at least, starting to relax a bit, a sheepish smile breaking into his face. “I’m gonna go get dressed.”</p><p>“Good idea. You want breakfast?” I ask.</p><p>“Definitely.”</p><hr/><p>Things go well for most of the day.</p><p>As I’d hoped, Dutch and my dad get on like a house on fire, especially when Dutch starts to chill out and stop treating my dad like he's, well, <em> my dad.</em> When they're just two guys they can shoot the shit about cars, bikes and… Okay, unfortunately the category of women mostly gets covered by me. There's a fair bit of teasing, and it's pretty merciless. I'm used to it, and it’s well meant, so it's cool. I guess. I get a few digs of my own in, a few times. It’s fun having the two of them get along, even when I’m their common ground.</p><p>We make it through dinner, and about halfway through doing the dishes before things go south. Dutch is drying the plates, while I’m putting them away, and my dad’s standing in the doorway working on another beer. Then something comes up. Something I wasn’t ready to discuss yet, but I can’t back out of.</p><p>“So, what are you guys planning to do when Tina goes back to college?”</p><p>“We hadn’t talked about-” Dutch starts, but I realize I’ve gotta cut in. Shit.</p><p>“Actually, Dad, about that.” I take a deep breath, and they’re both looking at me expectantly. Shit, is this what it's gonna be like having two people whose opinions I actually give a fuck about? Okay, <em> keep going</em>, can't turn back now. “I’m not <em> going </em> back.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I’m not going back to college for the new semester. I’m dropping out.” I say, nervously. </p><p>“No you’re not.” Point blank refusal. </p><p>I wasn’t expecting him to take it well, but I wasn’t expecting him to just deny the possibility.</p><p>“I wanna come work at the shop. I do have some ideas about what I <em> would </em> like to do with my life.” <em> If he’d just listen. </em></p><p>He gives me this steady look. “No.”</p><p>“Dad-”</p><p>“No, Tina.” He rarely ever calls me by my given name. “You’re not throwing your life away over some boy.” </p><p>The implication, no, him stating <em> outright </em> that he thought I'd drop out of college <em> just </em> because I'm into someone is just so fucking <em>offensive</em>... I'm gobsmacked. No matter how much I am into Dutch, this is so fucked up an assumption that I can't fathom that it's my dad saying it.<em> How little faith does he have in me?</em> It’s such a crock of shit; having another reason to stay makes going back all the harder, but it’s far from my only reason, and it’s not a new idea. I just need him to understand. He’s got all these ideas for how my life should go, how much better he wants it to be than his, and it’s like, for all his good intentions, it’s still gonna end up with me unhappy.</p><p>“I’m not. <em>It’s not </em> because of Dutch. My grades aren’t that good and I’m fucking <em> bored.</em> I don't wanna spend my life some pencil pushing asshole working a shitty desk job.”</p><p>He closes his eyes and takes a deep, calming breath. “Do you have<em> any</em> idea what I’ve gone through to get you into college? How <em> hard </em> I worked so you wouldn’t have to work a manual job your whole life?”</p><p>“<em>Yes.</em> I was <em> there,</em> Dad.” I was at work with him most weekends instead of screwing around with my friends, after all. I know as soon as the words leave my mouth that I’ve used the wrong tone. I sound like a spoiled brat.</p><p>He's looking more agitated than I've seen him in years. <em> Shit.  </em>“Then why throw it back in my face?”</p><p>I can feel Dutch shift his posture next to me, like he's ready to move to defend me if he has to. It's not gonna be needed. My dad would never lay a hand on a woman in general, but definitely not me. </p><p>But I’m fucking this up, I’ve gotta change tack, try and find a different angle. I’m almost pleading when I say, “It's not gonna make me happy. You do want me to be happy, right? Working with cars makes me happy.”</p><p>“This isn't happening. You're <em> not </em> coming to work for me. You <em> are </em> going back.”</p><p>Christ, he’s being unreasonable. I can see <em> why, </em> but I’m starting to get pissed off myself. This is the downside to us both being stubborn assholes. Before I can help myself, I’m rising to the bait. “I'm <em> not</em>. If you won’t let me come work for you, <em>fine</em>. You want me to go ask Steve's dad for a job?” </p><p>“You think <em> Rick </em> will take you on?” Sarcasm is dripping from his every word, like that possibility is so fucking laughable its barely worth the effort of mocking.</p><p>“Mr. Johnson knows I've been working with you since I was old enough to hold a wrench, so why not? <em>Why wouldn’t he</em>?”</p><p>
  <em> “You know why.” </em>
</p><p>“Oh yeah? Because I'm a girl? That's bullshit <em> and you know it.</em>”</p><p>“Don't make it less so,” he says, turning away. “so go ask him, see if I give a shit.” </p><p>Fuck, I hate that I’ve let it escalate like this, hate the part I’ve played in it. I wish I could do something besides roll over and accept what he wants, but I can't see any other way.</p><p>“Dad, don't be like this. <em> Please</em>.” </p><p>He walks off down the hall, and yells behind him, “It's not happening, Tina, and that's final.” </p><p>His bedroom door slams behind him. Fuck. That went so fucking badly. <em> Worse </em> than my worst case scenario. I <em> hate </em> fighting with my dad. It doesn’t happen often, aside from friendly bickering when we’re working on a project together. This is <em> awful </em>. And now I have to apologize to Dutch, because he had to see it, and I’m scared it’s gonna make him think less of either of us. We must look a real dysfunctional shitshow right now.</p><p>I can barely bring myself to look at him, through the stinging feeling behind my eyes. I’m breathing unsteadily and my voice is shaking with adrenaline and emotion when I say “I'm sorry, I'm sorry you had to see that. I’m <em> so </em>fucking embarrassed.”</p><p>“It's okay, baby. C'mere.” Dutch pulls me into him, tucks my head against his shoulder as I try and fight back tears. He’s rubbing my back and it’s making me wanna cry even more because he’s being so fucking gentle with me, like I’m made of glass. “You wanna come with me to Tommy's? He won't mind.”</p><p>“He will,” I protest. “I don't wanna take your guy time away from you.”</p><p>“He'll understand. He understands family shit. Why'd you think we're so close?”</p><p>Dutch has his chin resting on the top of my head, and I can’t see his face, but I wish I knew what he’s thinking, what’s going on in his brain right now.</p><p>“Yeah? I hadn't really thought about it.” I say, and why would I have? Tommy and Dutch have always been a given, as much as Johnny and Bobby are, it's the natural order of things.</p><p>He stops rubbing my back, and pushes me slightly away from him so he can give me a lopsided, sympathetic smile. “C'mon, get your shit. Let's go.”</p><hr/><p>We take both bikes over to Tommy’s. Dutch has to work the next day so he’s gotta go straight back to his after, and it's almost tempting to agree to stay with him when he offers, but I really need to fix this thing with my dad. He hates going to bed on a fight. Guess I do too. </p><p>I managed to pocket Dutch's present without him noticing before we left, at least, so I can give it to him later. </p><p>We arrive, and I could have put money on this, Tommy's guard is up a bit when he sees me. He wasn't expecting me to intrude on their boys’ night. I kinda wanna turn around and head home.</p><p>“What's going on, man?” he asks. </p><p>Dutch waves him off with a “Parents, yknow?” as though that explains everything.</p><p>Somehow it seems to explain <em> enough, </em> because Tommy shrugs and beckons us inside. We follow him through the house, down the stairs into the basement, which Tommy seems to have set up as his own space. There's a small TV, couch, and coffee table in one corner. The other side of the room makes it clear this is Tommy's bedroom, cos he's got a big, full-size bed and a nightstand with a lamp, plus a bunch of books on a shelf. </p><p>Tommy throws himself down on the couch and immediately picks up his stash box off the table to start rolling a joint. </p><p>Dutch is pretty at home, I can tell, cos he sits down next to Tommy and grabs the TV remote. He starts flicking through the channels, and I'm just standing there awkwardly. I don't know <em> what </em> I'm doing. </p><p>“You gonna sit down or you gonna stand there like a lemon all night?”</p><p>I shake my head and laugh. <em>Of course</em> Tommy's still gotta be a snarky bastard.</p><p>“Just looking at your books there. Didn't know you could read, Tommy.”</p><p>He grins at me then, so I know we've broken the ice. “That's me. Full of surprises.”</p><p>I go sit next to Dutch.</p><p>“So what's goin' on with that Erin chick?” Dutch asks, and I'm not sure I really wanna be part of this conversation. Guys talking about girls rarely goes <em> nicely</em>. Especially guys like Tommy talking about girls.</p><p>Tommy shoots Dutch a look, like he doesn't wanna talk about it with me here, but Dutch gestures at him like he should just get on with it. Well, I guess I should appreciate his faith in me being cool about it.</p><p>“Eh, we're not serious. Break’s nearly over. We had fun, but I don’t see it lasting.”</p><p>Begrudgingly, I can respect Tommy's up front, no-strings approach, but I kinda feel bad for him. Little flings that fizzle out before they amount to anything real sounds like a fun way to get past a breakup, but after a year and a half? I'd have thought he would be a little more interested in moving onto something new. It's almost sad. I can’t judge, cos I probably wasn’t much different when I was holding out hope for Dutch, though I like to think I gave them more of a shot than <em>that</em>. </p><p>“I'm not even gonna ask what you two are doing.” Tommy says<em> and there we go, </em> my pity is gone. </p><p>“Aww, you jealous Tommy? You mad Dutch is stepping out on you? I'm sure we can find you someone new.” I tease.</p><p>Dutch laughs, so at least I hit the right tone there. That could have been taken the wrong way, but it <em> was </em> funny, and so worth the risk. I don't know how to be earnest with Tommy, it feels wrong. Like Susan, it's easiest to communicate everything through a thin veneer of bitchiness. </p><p>“Fuck off, Tina.” he replies, without heat. Point one to me. </p><p>“What d’you think about Johnny and Ali?” Dutch asks. “They been hanging out a lot at Jimmy’s, haven’t they?”</p><p>I shrug, cos I’m trying really hard not to think about Johnny and Ali. They used to be a great couple, I was rooting for them hard back then, and I like that they’re trying to be friends now. If there’s more to it? Well, good luck to ‘em. It’s more work than most people would be willing to put in. Besides,<em> if </em> I did know anything, I wouldn’t give that info up to Johnny’s friends. My lips are sealed.</p><p>Tommy sparks up, then we're passing the joint between us as we chill out on the couch. Still haven't found anything worth watching. </p><p>“You'd think considering everyone and their grandma is home there'd be something on TV.”</p><p>“Yeah. You got anything taped?” Dutch asks. </p><p>“You know where they are. Have a look.”</p><p>Dutch gets up and crouches in front of the little entertainment center. God, his ass looks<em> great </em> in those jeans. </p><p>“Pink Panther?” he suggests. </p><p>“Works for me.”</p><p>We end up watching cartoons and while stoned for most of the evening, until I've pretty much forgotten that I'd left the house on a shitty note. Tommy's actually surprisingly okay with my presence after a while, and I hardly feel like an interloper at all. The truce from yesterday seems to be holding up. </p><p>It's been a nice evening, but it’s getting towards midnight and now we're sober, so we’ve gotta think about leaving. Tommy says goodbye at the door, and then it's just me and Dutch outside. I'm putting my jacket back on when I remember the gift in my inside pocket. </p><p>“Hey, I nearly forgot,” I say, pulling out the little package. “I got you something. Happy Christmas.”</p><p>Dutch's smile melts my heart even more than usual as he starts to tear off the paper. </p><p>I got him black leather driving gloves. To be honest, I just wanted to get him something cool but simple, that he might use. Driving gloves are always gonna be cool, right? And Dutch takes driving seriously, even when it's casual. Thankfully, by the look on his face while he's trying them on, he seems to like them a lot. </p><p>“These are badass, Tina. Thanks. I, uh… I was gonna get you something but I couldn't find anything right when I went to the mall. In the meantime,” he's got the gloves back off and he's reaching behind his head. Oh. <em> Oh.  </em></p><p>He's undoing the clasp on his St. Christopher. Dutch has worn this necklace every time I've seen him since we first met. It's such a part of him that it doesn't even occur to me that it's <em> there </em> most of the time. I'm speechless. </p><p>“I want you to keep hold of this until I find you something better,” he says, gazing into my eyes, and oh lord I'm melting again, set completely adrift, while works his fingers underneath my hair and does the clasp up at the back of my neck. </p><p>There could never <em> be </em> anything better. Even though this is a loan, it's temporary, there's still this feeling in my gut like this means more than I'll ever understand.</p><p>I kiss him hard, pressing my whole body against him. “It's perfect, Dutch. <em> You're </em> perfect.”</p><p>But now, as we separate, I realize I've gotta go home without him, and I’ve gotta face the music. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Nothing At All</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The gang gets together again and catches up after Christmas.<br/></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Takes place alongside Chapter 12/13 of Malibu.</p><p>I'm gonna be spacing the next couple of chapters out over Christmas, as I work on completing my holiday gifts for the CK Secret Santa. Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By Saturday, my dad and I have reached an uneasy peace about my college situation. He isn't happy I'm not going back. He's not willing to take me on full-time, yet, but he's not yelling and slamming doors anymore. <em> He's stopped fighting me on it. </em> Broadly speaking, I’m feeling hopeful. If I keep my shit together and show him I’m serious, that I am staying regardless of how much shit he wants to give me for it, then it’s probably gonna work out. He’s my dad, y’know? He’s predictable.</p><p>Dutch is driving over after work to pick me up for the party, and I’m feeling pretty good about most everything. I’ve got my fringe sitting how I like it, and I’m happy about that, cos he’s bringing his car and I don’t have to wreck my hair by wearing a helmet. I’m still wearing his St. Christopher, and it’s tucked into my shirt, cos I don’t really want anyone else to know I’ve got it. </p><p>Dutch looks like <em> sin </em>when he pulls into the driveway. He’s got these dark aviators on, and he’s smirking at me while he gets out of the car. He's wearing the gloves I bought him.</p><p>Oh he <em> knows </em> he looks good, and it’s maddening; everything going on here is so effortlessly fucking cool that I am losing my mind. His white t-shirt is <em> tight </em>and his blue jeans are smart, and I’m not sure I don’t look way underdressed next to him in my fluffy black sweater, ripped black jeans, and combat boots. He knew what he was getting with me, though, so I guess he’s only got himself to blame.</p><p>I walk over and kiss him, slow but passionate. I'm pressing him up against the car door, my head tilted up to reach his mouth, and his hands find my hips. We break for air, and I can’t hold it in another second, I’ve gotta tell him, “You look hot.” </p><p>“Shut up and get in the car,” he laughs, with just the slightest flush across his cheeks. <em> Well </em> , I never thought I’d make Dutch, of all people, blush. I could get <em> used </em> to that.</p><p>So we drive to Jimmy’s. The radio’s on the local rock station, sound system blaring over the noise from the engine. I've gotta keep sneaking glances at him, cos I think might explode if I don't. He's driving, watching the road rather than me, and it's even better that I get to really appreciate him in gorgeous, glorious profile. Broad chest and stomach looking just slightly soft where he’s sitting; defined, muscular arms stretched out in front of him. One hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearstick. Black leather stretched taut on those fingers that I know oh so well, have spent many, many hours fantasizing about.</p><p>“Take a picture, it'll last longer.” he grins, reaching across the gap between us. </p><p>His fingertips, through the leather gloves and the denim of my jeans, trace the line of muscle running up my inner thigh. I let out a gasp, my brain shorting out for a second.</p><p>“I would,” I say, shakily, “but I forgot my camera.”</p><p>“You alright there?”</p><p><em> Jesus Christ. </em> I don't know why he's teasing me today, and I don't know why it's working. I can't admit how unexpectedly the gloves, his hands in them, are doing it for me. If I tell him, he'll know that it's working and redouble his efforts, and I'll surely die if it gets worse than what's going on right now. </p><p>“I'm fine.” If I keep my replies short, maybe he won't notice. I've gotta try and keep my eyes on the road now, cos I'm gonna give the game away if he catches my eye.</p><p>“You sure 'bout that?” From the tone of his voice, I'd guess it's too late. Fucking tease. </p><p>“Stop, Dutch.” I warn, but desire seeps through into the way I say his name.</p><p>“You really want that?”</p><p>He squeezes my thigh, gently kneading at the soft flesh, making me yelp.</p><p><em> “Yes.” </em>I lie. I wouldn't believe me either right now. I'm not being convincing in the slightest. </p><p>I'm half disappointed, half relieved, when he puts both hands back on the wheel. The rest of the drive is pretty uneventful, apart from the fact I have to sit still and quiet, and act like I’m not horny as hell.</p>
<hr/><p>This is the last party before New Year’s, so I wanna make the most of getting to see my friends. I’m not about to bitch about being so extremely well distracted, but I’m not gonna see half the people here nearly as often when they go back to college. If only I could get Barbara away from Bobby for two minutes, I wanna tell her about Christmas, but they’re practically joined at the hip. It’s cute, though. Bobby’s a nice guy, and she deserves that. </p><p>Dutch is off somewhere chatting to Tommy and Greg, and I’ve got a few of the girls huddled in the corner, along with Bobby on Barbara's arm. I guess Dutch and I have been the subject of some gossip, cos Nicole’s asking for details I’m not gonna be giving, and Susan looks like she’s about to throw up from just the speculation.</p><p>Mostly, my friends are shocked that after so long, it's happened. I'm getting what I always wanted, but like, it's better now. Four years ago I was a kid, we both were, and we'd have fucked up and hurt each other like the two couples who had been together then out of our friend group eventually did. Maybe Barbara and I got the better end of the deal here, not getting our guys until they were out of the worst of things with their old sensei, rather than in the midst of it. </p><p>“You think Johnny's changed?” Nicole asks Barbara, I guess cos now she's been spending more time with him than the rest of us, thanks to Bobby.</p><p>Bobby looks like he wants to jump in and defend his friend, but thinks better of it while he's outnumbered. Smart boy. </p><p>“Yeah, maybe,” she says. “He got me to drop something off at her house for Christmas, but he wouldn't tell me what. She's still giving him the time of day, so it can't have been that bad, right?” </p><p>That's got me thinking. Johnny four years ago was a totally different guy to the one I'm seeing looking at Ali across the room now, the way he smiles just a little bit brighter when she flips her hair. That's a guy who knows what he lost and if he gets it back, he'd never make those mistakes again. </p><p>I'm gonna go out on a limb here. “I'm rooting for them, personally.”</p><p>Naturally, Susan drops in an acerbic “Of course you are.”</p><p>“I'm serious. I think he's got something to do with Dutch making a move. Can't put my finger on it, don't know I ever will, but I'm sure he helped out somewhere.”</p><p>“So I can blame him for that, too?” she smiles brightly, exaggeratedly excited for a second, before dropping back down to her usual neutral expression. </p><p>“Yeah, believe it or not, you can blame Johnny for me being <em> happy</em>. And Ali too, by the looks of things.”</p><p>Susan sighs, sorta sadly, looking over at Dutch. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”</p><p>I shrug. “Hey, I'm just along for the ride. If it lasts, I'm good. If it doesn't, at least I won't regret not taking the chance.”</p><p>Connie’s looking at me weird, occasionally glancing pointedly at the neckline of my sweater and <em> oh shit. </em> I adjust the chain of Dutch's St. Christopher slightly so it’s not visible under my top. Most people aren’t gonna notice, but Connie’s been my closest friend for years, even closer than Ali, Barbara, or Susan, and she <em> knows </em>I don’t wear jewelry.</p><p>Nicole's got Bobby and Barbara chatting about something else, all attention on the new couple, when Connie decides to ask, quietly. </p><p>“Is that…?” </p><p>I nod in confirmation, but I'm sure as shit not getting it out for everyone to see. If they're gossiping now, heads would explode. “It's just for a while, though.” </p><p>“Yeah right,” Connie scoffs, “he's never getting that back.”</p><p>“He will! When he asks for it… And not a second before.” I can’t help but smile.</p><p>Connie’s looking at me, eyebrows raised. “Never gonna happen.”</p><p>“Sure it will, he said he wants to get me something else instead, so he’ll probably ask for it back then. Or he could break up with me, that’s <em> always </em> a possibility, if you believe Susan.”</p><p>If her eyebrows go any higher they’ll be in her hairline. “<em>Never gonna happen. </em> I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”</p><p>“Oh yeah? Shut up, you haven’t seen shit.” I laugh, but I’m blushing. “Fuck. You really think?”</p><p>Susan’s picked up on the conversation a bit, and turned to look at me as if I’ve grown another head. Okay, I don’t blush usually, but this is the very definition of <em> exceptional circumstances. </em> </p><p>Connie rolls her eyes. “<em>Everybody </em> fucking thinks, Tina. Tying a guy like that down, it’s like you pulled off a Christmas miracle.”</p><p>“Oh come on, he’s not tied down. He’s free to fuck whoever he wants. Sure, I <em> want </em>it to be me, always, all the time-”</p><p>I ignore Susan’s <em> “Ugh, gross.” </em> very deliberately.</p><p>“-but we haven’t even talked about us. I started arguing with my dad before we could get to it. Anyway, I'm staying in the Valley, so we've got time to figure it out.”</p><p>“Hmm. He’s got it <em> bad. </em>And so do you.”<br/>
“If you say a damn thing to him or <em> any </em> of his friends I will not hesitate to bestow <em> violent </em>retribution on you.”</p><p>Connie’s giggling as she tries to think of anything I’d do to retaliate against her. “And what’s that?”</p><p>“I’ll Nair your eyebrows in your sleep.”</p><p>“<em>Shit,” </em>she says, “consider me warned.”</p><p>I catch Dutch's eye from the other side of the room, and I know he's gonna make his way over here. </p><p><em> “Remember that.” </em> I tell Connie. </p><p>Dutch is crossing the room towards me, all confidence and swagger and it is <em> killing </em> me.</p><p>“You look like you're up to something.” he says, looking down at me, eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement. </p><p>“Oh yeah?”</p><p>“Mhmm. So what is it? Can't have you gettin' into trouble without me.”</p><p>I laugh, heat blooming low in my body. “You offering to get in trouble <em> with </em> me?”</p><p>“Play your cards right and see, sweetheart.”</p><p>Susan rolls her eyes, but otherwise she’s pretty much blanking Dutch. I'm not letting her feelings about me dating Tommy's best friend kill my mood right now, anyway, much as I might sympathize. Thoughts for another time, I guess, for when I’m not looking up into deep brown eyes that make me wanna do terrible, wonderful things.</p><p>He's biting at his lower lip right above where that little scar is. It’s driving me crazy.</p><p>“What?” I ask.</p><p>He's leaning in to kiss me, that mischievous glint in his eye. </p><p>It's just a brush of his lips against mine at first, his hand cupping my face, until my fingers find the line of muscle at his waist, and I trace the slight curve all the way to his abs. His breath hitches, just barely, then he’s diving into me, kissing me like we’re not surrounded by people. That beautiful mouth of his is doing god's work, sweeping me away on a wave of lust so strong I can’t even think. His hand falls away from my cheek, so he’s free to grab my ass and lift me against him, so I can draw my legs up around his hips, wrap my arms around his neck, and hold on for dear life.</p><p>I’m pretty sure we’ve embarrassed our friends into giving us a bit of the privacy Dutch wasn’t gonna ask for, cos I’m faintly aware of the group around us dispersing. I’m so far past giving a damn about anyone else around us that it’s almost funny. We’re not the only people in the room who’ve made out here, but we’re almost definitely the most graphic. And I’m still not giving a shit.</p>
<hr/><p>Jimmy’s getting a little fire going, when we finally make our way down to the beach. We sit to one side, on a couple blankets, and Dutch is behind me where I can lean back into him and share in his body heat. I can't get over how warm he runs. Between the cool late evening and the salty ocean breeze, I'm grateful for it. </p><p>Over the course of about thirty minutes, the party starts to move down from the house where we had been, until most of us are in one big group around the fire, some music playing, and we chat like that for a while. Jimmy and Jennifer are sitting across the way, acting completely smitten as always, and Bobby and Barbara are sitting nearby, well on their way to joining them.</p><p>I wonder, when I notice the glances Bobby and Barbara keep stealing at each other when the one of them is talking to someone else, if Connie is right, if Dutch does look at me like that. It's like they're the whole world to each other right now. I dunno if I can imagine that he'd look at me that way, though I definitely am starting to feel it myself after he had my back at Christmas. It's been a long time coming, but it's hitting me like a train in its intensity, and without him really doing much of anything to make it happen.</p><p>Greg and Samantha are sitting over in that direction, and she’s sitting with her head resting against his shoulder, his arm behind her back. Shitty taste in sports teams aside, he’s an okay guy, and having Samantha attached to someone not-Johnny might smooth things over with her and Ali. Not that I think Samantha’s even likely to know that Ali had an issue - she’s pretty cool, and she tries to avoid conflict. I guess it must be hard, looking like she does, liking guys like she does, and dealing with the social fallout. Girls can be harsh when they see a threat, and I guess I’m sorta glad I’ve never been that kinda pretty. Easier to keep any flings on the quiet. </p><p>“So, you guys are a thing now?” I ask, curious.</p><p>Greg shrugs, but he’s smiling, and so’s she. “Guess so.”</p><p>I’m glad they’re getting along, they look good together.</p><p>“Seems like everyone’s starting to pair off,” I say, casually, cos Freddy’s come to sit near Connie, and he’s sitting a little closer than is strictly friendly.</p><p>Jimmy notices, and flashes Jen a little smile. <em> Weird.</em> </p><p>Anyway, Freddy and Connie aren’t actually touching, but she’s let him way up in her personal space, just on the edge of plausible deniability. I wonder if he’s wearing her down, bit by bit. They’re good friends, have been for a <em> long </em>time, and I think he could make her happy if she’d give him a shot. But she’s gotta see the merit of that on her own, if she hasn’t already.</p><p>She shoots me a look, like I’m a complete idiot, like I’m picking up on something that’s totally, absolutely <em> never </em> gonna happen, But she doesn’t move away. Oh, she’s <em> so </em> full of shit, even if she doesn’t know it. Though, I’d put money on her knowing <em> exactly </em>what she’s doing and just not saying it out loud yet. I’m gonna put a pin in it, and try to remember to persuade her to tell me more later.</p><p>I'm pulled back out of my thoughts by Dutch sliding his hand inside my jacket to cup my chest, super fucking casually, like he's not even doing it. Like nobody's gonna <em> notice</em>. And I guess they don't, because he's talking to Tommy and he's not even paying attention to how I react. There’s a little break in the conversation, while Tommy turns to say something to Erin, and Dutch leans down to press a kiss just behind my ear. </p><p>“Enough trouble yet?” he whispers.</p><p>I’ve gotta laugh, and I turn my head to kiss him over my shoulder, deep and slow. “Not even close.”</p><p>Maybe that’s a mistake, cos he flexes his hand where it’s resting, and then grips firmly enough to make me gasp. Fucking<em> hell. </em></p><p>“Sure about that?”</p><p>“Perfectly.”</p><p>“Oh, you’re bad.”</p><p>“You’re worse.”</p><p>He grins. “I know.”</p><p>“You wanna get outta here?” I ask, just before Bobby and Johnny announce that they’re going for a walk, and I guess Barbara and Ali are going along too.</p><p>Well, that’s getting interesting, and suddenly the urge to stick around and find out is hitting. Ali’s wearing this little white sweater with a low neckline, and she’s not pulling it up half as much as she would if she weren’t so <em> obviously </em>flirting. </p><p>It’s clear as day that Johnny <em> must </em>have changed, cos Johnny four years ago would have tried to shoot his shot, thrown himself on her mercy at the slightest hint of bare skin. Johnny four years ago was a fucking dumbass. Hopefully Johnny right now can see the eventual payoff. </p><p>“Nah,” Dutch says, “I wanna show you off.” </p><p>
  <em> Fuuuuuck. </em>
</p><p>Greg and Tommy are now chatting about high school, about when some of us would go over the hill together, and as teenage couples are prone to do, hook up, make out, the usual. </p><p>“Hey, you remember that time-” Greg starts, and then his face falls. “Wait, shit, never mind.”</p><p>“Remember what? Spill, Greg.”</p><p>“Shit, okay. I was gonna say remember that time that cop showed up-” </p><p>My eyes widen in realization as I really hope he's not gonna finish that sentence, cos Susan's sitting <em> right there. </em></p><p>Yes, the cops had arrived to disperse the group of horny teens, and some of us had been in, uhm, more compromising situations than others. Tommy had been caught with his pants down. With someone he shouldn't have been doing. He'd argued, for the rest of his senior year, that he'd been single, <em> technically </em>, so it was fine. I dunno, when you've gotta start getting into technicalities, you've already lost.</p><p>He obviously regretted it at the time, even though his pride stopped him from actually being man enough to apologize properly. Seems like maybe he still does, cos he gives Greg a look that very much says <em> shut your mouth, if you want to live.  </em></p><p>I know that things after the '84 All Valley, after the guys left Cobra Kai, went south for all of them. They went from having structure and routine and a mentor, to nothing overnight, and it must have been a real headfuck, because I remember that guy being intimidating as all fucking get out, and still inspiring this almost crazy sense of loyalty in them.</p><p>But they're guys, and guys almost never admit that shit unless they really sit with it for a long time, and in the moment, things had been done and said that couldn't be taken back. And watching all of these thoughts cross everyone's faces as we remember that half of the year is like watching a train wreck happen in slow motion, I can't look away.</p><p>“I'm going to get a drink.” Susan says, and walks off to find a cooler, and the moment is broken.</p><p>I let out a sigh as Dutch pulls me a little tighter in against him, and I guess he was thinking about life after the All Valley, too. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must have been for them, then, but it doesn’t excuse all the mistakes they made that year.</p><p>“You wanna go, now?” Dutch asks, voice softer and gentler and… something else. </p><p>“Yeah. Good idea.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Lightning Strikes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tina finally sees Dutch's place, and meets a friend.</p><p>Takes place around Malibu chapter 13. A little bit the day after that party.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Shoutout to Wadsworth, for the inclusion of another OC in this universe. Dutch's cactus, Shelly.<br/>Also, this one gets smutty pretty much right off the bat.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's Sunday tomorrow, and Dutch isn't working, so we're staying at his place tonight. He's renting a room in this cute little house in Northridge, from some guy he works with. The furniture's a little outdated, and the kitchen's probably older than I am, but I’m having a great time watching him move around the space, grabbing us drinks, getting ready for the rest of our evening.</p><p>He nods through to his bedroom, so I walk ahead, and I can't help but smile, it's so perfectly <em> him</em>. The bed is huge, much bigger than it has any right to be in a smaller room. A scuffed-up nightstand alongside, with a cactus in a pot there right up front and center, pride of place, in front of a lamp, and then a book sitting just on the edge. Somehow the thought of Dutch reading in bed, next to his little cactus buddy, is strangely endearing. I come around to sit at that side of the bed, and <em> of course, </em> the book is an owner's manual for his Buick.</p><p>There's a small TV set on the dresser, opposite the bed, and he's turning it on and finding the channel he wants, while I sit there. I've gotta get a closer look at that little cactus, cos it's surprisingly fluffy looking, and I've never seen one like that before. It's almost tempting to reach out and stroke the tufts of white that stick out above the spikes. </p><p>“I see you've met Shelly,” Dutch says, making me jump. He's come around to the other side of the bed, and I have to turn at the waist to look at him. </p><p>“Shelly, is it? She's neat.”</p><p>He laughs. “How'd you know she's a girl? Coulda been a Sheldon.”</p><p>“She wears her hair so long, I guessed.”</p><p>He looks so goddamn hot as he climbs onto the bed, towards me. He's on his knees, looking down at me like he's trying to figure out his next move, deciding what the best strategy is. I don't give a damn what he does, as long as he does <em> something.  </em></p><p>“You gonna keep teasing me all night, or you gonna follow through?” I ask.</p><p>“Teasing sounds fun.”</p><p>My eyes roll, almost involuntarily. “Sure it does, when you're the one teasing.”</p><p>“You saying you don't like it?”</p><p>“No. I'm saying you should shut up and kiss me already.”</p><p><em> Thank-fucking-God</em>, he does, settling on the bed next to me and pulling my face all the way towards him, so my body's gotta come along for the ride, and it's like everything is complete in that moment when his tongue touches mine.</p><p>I could lose myself in the way he kisses me, each time falling deeper and deeper into something entirely, magnificently him. He's pulling back to mutter something and I'm so dizzy and breathless I can't even fucking comprehend it. I miss what he says at first, until my brain clicks into gear, and then I realize I'm gonna be expected to give a response besides moaning incoherently at some point. </p><p>“Can't believe you bought me something that turns <em> you </em> on. Bad girl.”</p><p>Oh shit, he means the gloves, and I feel like I should at least try and defend myself here, cos it wasn't intentional. </p><p>“Didn't know they were gonna. You have, ah-”</p><p>He's kissing down my neck, nipping over the pulse point with his teeth, making me gasp, and I lose my train of thought. “Keep going. Tell me, baby.”</p><p>“You have really nice hands. Keep thinking about what you'd do with them.”</p><p>“Oh, so what, like lingerie? Me driving in these is like that skimpy little Victoria's Secret number you had on before?” He's down at my clavicle, pulling the neck of my sweater to the side for better access.</p><p>I know he's thinking about the red g-string from our ride together, our first time, and I'm smiling my heart out again, cos yeah, that was a smart move on my part if he's still thinking about it. I’ve gotta shift slightly, rearranging us until I’m sitting with my back to the headboard, propped up on my arms with a little space behind me to lie back into later, and he’s kneeling in front of me between my thighs.</p><p>“Guess so.” I sigh, when he finds his way back to my neck.</p><p>His voice vibrates right through me, deep and delicious, when he hums, “Mmm. I can get behind that.” </p><p>Those amazing hands are working my t-shirt and sweater up, together, so he can get at my bare skin all at once. He draws the layers of fabric up over my head, so that soon I'm just in my jeans and underwear, and he moves away to grab something. My jaw drops when I realize he's brought his gloves in from the car. </p><p>I am <em> really </em>fucking intrigued about where this is gonna go now. </p><p>He fits those deceptively nimble fingers through the body of the glove, spreading until they find their way home, and there's something deeply erotic in this, as he works his hand into the leather. A little tug, at the wrist, until his knuckles fit perfectly in the little cut-outs, until he can secure the shiny back button that sits just inside where his ulna ends. They're like a second skin, once they're on, snug, just tight enough to show the outline of his nail beds, but not restricting. Perfection.</p><p>Everything about him is so intensely physical, and watching this is no different. I’m totally fucking hypnotized by the small movements, by the care and delicacy shown towards a gift that we’re clearly both getting a lot out of. </p><p>He brings his hand up under my chin, his fingers bent, to raise my face so I meet his eyes. Oh, <em> goddamn </em> he’s gorgeous, and he’s looking at me like I can’t even describe. I’ve never, ever, wanted someone else this bad. Possibly couldn’t, even. I <em>really</em> hope that’s mutual.</p><p>He comes in to kiss me again, and he starts off slow, but it doesn’t take long for it to become desperate. Leather-clad hands roam my body, searching for the lines of muscle contrasting with softer curves, and it’s sending me alarmingly close to spinning off into another part of my brain, the one that just <em> allows </em>shit and lets go.</p><p>I push up the white tee he’s wearing, 'til he finally helps and yanks it off in one smooth motion, and <em> oh god</em>, the sight of him above me, stretched upwards, the shape of his obliques, not super defined but most definitely <em> there, </em> is enough to drive anyone crazy. I drag my nails down his sides, and delight in the little shiver I’m rewarded with.</p><p>He smirks down at me, so impossibly beautiful in this moment. He drags his index finger down the middle of my stomach, and settles on the top button of my jeans. I’m so fucking glad those gloves fit so well, cos he’s got the dexterity to pop them open, one by one, and I lift my hips so he can hook his fingers in and drag the denim down my legs.</p><p>Okay, I’ve gotta admit there’s something super fucking hot about him shirtless, in jeans and gloves, standing at the end of the bed and looking like he wants to eat me alive.</p><p>“You gonna get back over here, or nah?” I ask, amusement and lust evident in my voice in equal measure. </p><p>“Nah. Thinking I might leave you hanging.”</p><p>“You’re such a dick.”</p><p>“Yeah, but <em> what </em> a dick.”</p><p>“So modest.” I laugh. “Get over here, <em> now</em>. I’m not asking again.”</p><p>Dutch makes a big show of complaining, but he can’t hide his smile, and most importantly, he’s complying, climbing back up onto the bed, and settling between my legs. “So <em> bossy.</em>” he whispers, before pressing a kiss to the inside of my hip.</p><p>His thumbs brush the thinner skin at my bikini line, and oh god, the feeling of leather against somewhere so intimate has me bucking my hips into the sensation. Taking his cue, he moves inwards, spreading me slightly through the cotton, just enough that when he mouths at me through the fabric, my eyes roll back and my head hits the pillow. Yeah, I’m gonna let him do any <em> goddamn </em> thing he wants to me as long as he keeps kissing me there, <em> just </em>like that. I really wish the feeling of his warm, wet, gorgeous mouth wasn’t dulled by my underwear, and I’m thinking about how I wanna ask for more without sounding ungrateful, when he just does it, stripping me of the one thing keeping me and that perfect mouth apart.</p><p>I decide, pretty much straight off, that I’m just gonna let him do his thing until he’s satisfied, cos I don’t know if I’ve got the heart to pull him away from there, ever. He’s so fucking good at it. He seems to know what I need before even <em> I </em> do, and I know I’m never gonna get it this good with anyone else. I’m <em> so glad </em> he’s doing this again. That hazy feeling’s starting to blur the edges of my mind. I’m rocking softly against his tongue, while he pins me down with his arms over my hips, as he eats me out like he was born to do it.</p><p>His tongue circles my clit, just so, before he pulls me into his mouth, and I’m dangling on the precipice, when I feel his fingers push against, but not quite into me. That sends me, shaking and screaming, over the edge, until the whole world is nothing but the way Dutch makes me feel. </p><p>It takes me a while to come down, but he works me through it, and kisses his way up my body to my bra, which somehow, miraculously, stayed on through that whole adventure. I suppose it’s a good thing, cos I know how distracted he gets by my tits, and I don’t think I could have waited for<em> that. </em>He finds his way up there eventually, though, and then he’s sliding his hands up behind my back to find the clasp, while his teeth find my nipple through the lace.</p><p><em> “Oh, fucking hell, Dutch.” </em> I moan, while he’s pulling the straps off my shoulders. I dunno how much more teasing I can take. I need him in me, like, <em> yesterday.  </em></p><p>“You like that, baby?” he mumbles against my sternum, as he’s throwing my bra across the room.</p><p>“Yes. But I,” oh fuck, he’s scraping his teeth along the swell of my breast and it makes my mind go blank.</p><p>His breath comes hot across my skin. “What?”</p><p>“Fuck me. <em> Please.” </em></p><p>He sits back on his heels to unbuckle his belt and shove his jeans and boxers down just far enough to free himself. I don’t think I’m ever gonna get over the sight of him like this, perfect and beautiful and huge, and so damn hard for <em> me. </em></p><p>“Nightstand.” he says, and I catch his meaning enough that I can reach over and pull open the drawer, stick my hand inside and emerge victorious with a condom. Surely there’s gotta be some limits to his dexterity in those gloves, so I’m gonna do this part myself. Gives me another excuse to touch him, all that soft, bare skin is just so inviting that it’s hard to resist.</p><p>I tear open the packet with my teeth and slide the condom down his length. The expression on his face while he watches my hand move over him is nothing short of intoxicating. </p><p>He holds himself at the base, and oh wow the <em> visual </em> of his gloved hand there is nearly enough to make me come again. I tilt my pelvis upwards, making it easier for him to find the perfect angle to slide home.</p><p>God, he's huge. And it's not <em> just </em>his dick, his strong arms are now resting either side of mine and he's got me caged in like this, looking so delicious that I can barely resist the urge to lean across and bite into his bicep. It's overwhelmingly sexy, just <em>overpowering</em> how he's <em>so</em> fucking masculine all over me. </p><p>Then he starts to move, and my world closes back in on that sensation. The fullness, the ache of him hitting exactly where I need him, the slight burn of the stretch that I was most certainly wet enough for but not really worked up to. It's gonna feel good and sore tomorrow, I know, as he hooks one of my knees over his elbow, and drives back into me.</p><p>I'm vaguely aware that I'm already making noises straight out of a porno, but when he brings his hand over my mouth to muffle my moans, and I'm overcome with the scent of leather and sex right there in my face and it’s just… <em> Whoa.</em></p><p>I'm clenching around him, <em> so </em>close to coming again, my thighs tense, my body starting to shake, and I can feel his thrusts getting more erratic. He’s losing his rhythm in the way that makes me know I’m doing something really right. It’s him groaning out my name, then moving his hand to the side of my face so he can kiss me, that pushes me over again, and I feel him come with me, while I’m spasming around him. He fucks us all the way through it, as we gasp and pant into each other's mouths, little desperate sounds.</p><p>It takes us a long time to come down from that high, both of us sweaty and shaky, totally blissed out. I can’t stop kissing him, even as I feel him softening inside, and I know we’ve gotta move, have to get rid of the condom, but he’s so exquisite and he’s <em> mine</em>, and I can’t bring myself to let him go just yet. </p><p>Eventually, he pushes himself up from where he’d collapsed on top of me. I miss him the second he’s gone, even though it’s a necessary evil, if we’re gonna keep using condoms. It feels like maybe it’s too early for that conversation. Though, if things keep going as they are, it might be worth having soon. </p><p>He pulls his jeans the rest of the way off, then gets back into bed with me. He tugs down the covers at his side, and I wiggle enough to get them down underneath me, so I can slide in too and wrap myself around him. I'm summoning the will to take glasses off and put them put of the way when Dutch does it for me, and the act is surprisingly intimate, especially when he plants a sweet kiss on my forehead and yawns sleepily. </p><p>“I'm so glad I get to do that with you.” I sigh, maybe cos my guard is down after he fucked me stupid <em>again</em>. </p><p>“Anytime, sweetheart.” he says, nuzzling into my hair. </p><p>My heart soars every time he says shit like that. “I'm gonna hold you to it.” </p><p>“Hope so.”</p>
<hr/><p>I love waking up in his arms. His lips are tracing the line of my shoulder blade, fluttering against my skin, and I’m wondering if I died and went to heaven in my sleep. I let out a little, happy sigh.</p><p>“Morning, sweetheart.” Dutch mumbles into my back.</p><p>“Hey,” my voice comes out breathy, “you been awake long?”</p><p>“Nah, not long. What d’you wanna do today?”</p><p>“What time is it?” My glasses are on the nightstand and I can’t be bothered reaching for them so I can read the clock.</p><p>“Twelve-thirty.”</p><p>I pretty much never want to move. In fact, I think I could live here, just as long as I don’t have to get out of bed for anything in the world. That sounds <em> really fucking good </em>. “We could order pizza and stay like this all day.” </p><p>“We could. Or…” he strokes along my tricep, “I could take you out. On a date.”</p><p>Okay, that sounds pretty good too. “Oh yeah? A date, huh?”</p><p>“Yeah, if you want to.” I can’t see his face, but I’m fairly certain he’s got that little smirk tilting up the corner of his mouth. I can hear it in his voice, he knows that I’m not gonna say no. He’s right.</p><p>“Yeah, sure. What are you thinking?”</p><p>“There’s a show on, if you feel like it.”</p><p>The idea of Dutch taking me out is cool enough, but live music, knowing he has pretty good taste and he knows mine, so he probably won’t lead me astray in any way I'm not into? I’m smiling from ear to ear. “I could be persuaded.”</p><p>“And what’s that gonna take?” he teases, pulling me onto my back and shifting over with me, so he stays on his side, looking at me. </p><p>“I’m sure you can think of <em> something</em>.” I smile.</p><p>Then his hand’s finding its way between my thighs, and <em> oh yeah</em>, that’s gonna get me to agree to anything that he wants.</p>
<hr/><p>It turns out he got his dates mixed up for the show, and we've already missed it, but the band he wanted to see is playing again on Friday. So we make plans for that, and we spend the rest of the day in bed, which is basically the best of both worlds for me. I get to stay wrapped up in this special moment, and I get a date in the future. Win-win situation. </p><p>If heaven <em> is </em>a place on earth, it's in Dutch's bed, passing a joint between us while we watch TV and talk shit. We cover a lot of ground over the afternoon, drifting in and out of make out sessions, in and out of each other’s bodies and minds in a whole lotta ways.</p><p>“How d'you think the rest of the party went after we left?” Dutch asks carefully, tracing a pattern across my shoulder with his fingertips. I'm curled into his chest, head tucked underneath his chin.</p><p>The TV is on in the background, but neither of us have been paying much attention. </p><p>“I hope Johnny and Ali worked things out.”</p><p>“How so?” </p><p>I chuckle softly against his warm skin. “Forgot I'm talking to Captain Oblivious here. Did you see that sweater she was wearing last night?” </p><p>“...No? That's the answer when a girl asks if you noticed another girl, right?” he teases. </p><p>“You're allowed to <em> notice </em>, you're still human. But more to the point, that little sweater and no bra? Total invitation for under the shirt action. If he's got half a brain, he won't have fallen for it.”</p><p>His voice sounds just outright confused, like girls are completely unfathomable. “Really? How's that make any sense? Like she wants it, but she doesn't?” </p><p>“Oh, she <em> wants </em> it. But she wants to know he's changed, more than that.” </p><p>Dutch hums thoughtfully, and I really like that sound as it vibrates through me. I press my lips to his chest, just where I can reach without moving too far.</p><p>“Y'know, I guess we can blame you for them getting together in the first place.”</p><p>His laugh is one of my favorite things in the world. “Sounds like you're accusing me.”</p><p>“You remember when they met?” </p><p>“Yeah, the thing with the milk duds. Johnny wouldn't let me forget if I wanted to. Wait, how do you?”</p><p>I poke him in the ribs affectionately, and enjoy how he jumps away. “I was there, asshole.”</p><p>“Shit, you <em> were</em>?”</p><p>“Yeah. Turns out the only girl there who liked your alpha bullshit was the one that looked like a dude.”</p><p>“I don't remember. Sorry. You liked me then?” </p><p>Doesn't seem much point in lying about it now, so I say plainly, “Yeah, and pretty much since.”</p><p>He's quiet for a long moment, fingers steady on my arm.</p><p>“So I could have had this since then, and I didn't even fucking know? Fuck.”</p><p>“You weren't ready. Neither of us were. This isn't like it would have been then.”</p><p>“I guess. Coulda ended up like Tommy and Susan.” he sounds pained to say it.</p><p>“I hope she's alright, gotta be hard seeing him around so much.”</p><p>Dutch huffs out a breath. “Yeah. Like it's a walk in the park for him.”</p><p>I know we've gotta change the subject, get into other things.</p><p>“Did I tell you I got an interview? I mean, it might not come to much, but maybe it'll kick my dad up the ass if it does.”</p><p>“That's great news. That with Steve's dad?” </p><p>I shake my head. “Another place. But word gets around, y'know? They talk. Opens up the conversation again.”</p><p>“Right. So that's what you wanna do with your future? Stay in the Valley, be a mechanic?”</p><p>I like that this is what we're talking about, naked in bed, kinda buzzed, planning our futures. Not necessarily together, but not not-together.</p><p>“Yeah. I'm good at it and it makes me happy, so why not, right? I wanna run my own place, but I don't need a degree for that yet. Couple of classes at community college night school and I'm set, but that's a long way off.” </p><p>There's that little thinking sound again. “When I was a kid, all I wanted in the world was to be a race car driver, but I'd settle for working on 'em. Think I could do that?”</p><p>I move so I can meet his gaze, cos I want him to get that I'm deadly serious. “I think you can do <em> anything </em> you wanna do. Just gotta make a start.” </p><p>There's a long, intense moment where we're both silently looking into each others eyes. </p><p>My heart breaks for him when he says, quietly, “Don't think I've ever heard someone say that to me and thought they believed it.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Slow and Low</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The gang take a ride, and Dutch and Tina put on a show.<br/>New Years Eve, part one. These next two chapters correspond to Malibu 14-16, but their themes spoil all the way up to Malibu 18. You might just want to finish the whole story at this point. Have fun!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, Malibu is done. What a ride, huh? I'd say it was the best. </p><p>Thank you so much, StrikeLikeACobraKai, for bringing this world to life in a way that we have all really fallen in love with. I'm loving collaborating with you, and while Malibu itself has come to fruition, the universe and its characters live on in Rising Tide, as well as the other stories that are still being written and posted. Those of you reading this probably already know about all of the other fics in this series, but we've made a collection where you can see them all together, including Violet Bloom, about Tommy and Susan, which Kai and I are co-authoring.</p><p>Anyway, enjoy, and as always, please comment if you did. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>New Year’s Eve, a whole bunch of us finally take that ride up to the canyon. It's mostly couples, with a few single guys, the lot of us numbering about two dozen or so in the end. The real exception to that is Johnny and Ali, who aren't <em> together</em>, but came as a pair, her riding pillion like they did back in the day. It's curious, for sure, but anyone who's questioning it is keeping their thoughts to themselves. My lips are sealed.</p><p>Dutch suggested we both take our own bikes tonight, and I knew straight off that it was because he wanted to play for a while as we made the journey up, weaving in and out of the others and trying to get ahead. I never can get over how much fun riding with him is, on one bike or two. </p><p>We end up at that lookout point we went to before. It's about the same, give or take a few plants, as the last time we were here; the perfect place to have a couple beers, hang out, and talk. It's cool to be back. We get to revisit those old memories <em> and </em> make some new ones.</p><p>Every time, it hits me how fucking <em> beautiful </em> it is up here. Hard to believe how lucky we are to have this beautiful landscape in easy reach, or how lucky I am to have these people to share it with, and one in particular, who I’m extra grateful for.</p><p>Dutch and I are the first couple to break from the group, when he grabs me by the hand and pulls me away. It's not the only time at these parties he's taken me off to one side, so I guess no one thinks too much of us disappearing. We've found ourselves the perfect spot, well away from everyone else, and normally this would be Dutch's cue to put his hands all over me, start winding me up for the rest of the night. But he doesn't. That's strange.</p><p>He sits down close and lets out this little sigh that makes me worry, a fist-sized pit of dread opening up in my gut. Somehow, it's made all the worse by how totally, completely gorgeous he looks tonight. His jacket is open over his denim shirt, and he looks <em> so damn good </em> in blue it's maddening. His blond hair, with its slight wave, is sitting just the right side of messy where his helmet has flattened it and he's fluffed it back up. </p><p>“I've been thinking,” he says, and if he's choosing now to break up with me I might actually kill him. It'd be worth the jail time.</p><p>“Oh yeah?” My nervous laugh doesn't do shit to cover how I feel. “Never a good sign.”</p><p>The small smile he gives me takes the edge off my fear. It's not the look of a man who's gonna say something I'm not gonna like. He's <em> anxious</em>, not guilty. Well, at least I'm not alone in that. </p><p>“I was thinking 'bout what you said before, about this being the right time. How d'you know? If you liked me, why didn't you make a move?”</p><p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p><p>“You think I didn't try, then?” I hope either my smile, or my gentle tone, soften the truth. “You just didn't see me at all.”</p><p>He looks a little shamed by the revelation, and I'm sad for him, because there's nothing to be ashamed <em> of</em>. I wasn't his type, and he didn't know me. I was his friend's girlfriend's awkward tomboy friend. Too many degrees of separation to be very relevant, and he didn't know anything else about me.</p><p>I lace my fingers through his, relieved at least he's not ending things, and wanting to give him some comfort.</p><p>“It's okay.” I sigh, running my thumb across the back of his. “It's in the past, and it got us here. Back then, you'd have broken my heart without meaning to, and I'd have let you, a million times over. I'd have loved you until there wasn't anything left, and I would never have stood up for anything <em> I </em> wanted. I'm different now, <em> we're </em> different. I can love you in a way that's good for both of us.”</p><p>“You love me?” he asks, in that small, vulnerable voice that's totally at odds with everything else about him. The one I suspect only I hear, and only rarely. </p><p>“No comment.” I reply, squeezing his hand.</p><p>He lets the topic go, which I'm gonna have to thank him for one day. It's not the right time for that kind of confession, pretty as the setting might be. </p><p>He says, “I was gonna ask if you'd be my girl, but…” </p><p>I wanna answer, <em> I've been yours longer than you'll ever fucking know. </em></p><p>I settle for “Already am.”</p><p>He leans in, and I meet him halfway, letting him kiss me so thoroughly it makes me almost forget my own name. His mouth is my happy place, like cold beer on a hot summer day, like smores roasted over a campfire, like spring rain, like laughter, like pure unadulterated joy, like all of the good things that have ever existed in the world. When he lets me go, it takes a long while to come back to myself, and I pretty much just have to press my face into his neck, wrap my arms around him, and wait for it to happen.</p><p>“So we're together, just like that?” he says, as though he can't believe it's that simple.</p><p>“<em>Just like that </em>. All you had to do was ask, asshole.”</p><p>He's grinning like I made his whole year, on the very last night. “You're too cool, Tina. I dunno how I landed you.”</p><p>“That smile did it. You were laughing with Tommy cos you hit Susan with one of those milk duds and she gave you a look, and all I could think was <em> oh no </em>when you grinned at her.”</p><p>I can't resist kissing him again. When I finally pull away, I've gotta add just one more thing. </p><p>“You stripping down and skinny dipping that first party at Jimmy's definitely helped. I mean, <em> goddamn</em>.”</p><p>“Liked what you saw, huh?” </p><p>“C'mon, you <em> know </em> you're hot. Anyone with sense would.”</p><p>He smirks, eyes crinkled at the corners, and then he’s looking at my lips when he says, “You're giving me ideas.”</p><p>“Well, if you're ever thinking of a repeat of last time, then I should give this back before someone notices it's missing.” I say, undoing the clasp on his chain and taking it off. </p><p>“You don't have to-” he starts, but I cut him off when I maneuver myself to place it around his neck. </p><p>“I know it means a lot to you. If someone sees me wearing it, then they'll ask, and I don't wanna hear it from anyone else. You tell me when you're ready.”</p><p>I've hooked the clasp through the loop, and the line of his neck looks way too tempting not to kiss. </p><p>The intake of air when my lips flutter across his skin is delicious, as is the shaky way he says “Okay.”</p><hr/><p>There's a lot going on back at Jimmy's, but my first move is to get changed. Taking a spill off a bike at speed is never a good time, but it's not something you want to happen in a mini-skirt, and besides that, I've been looking forward to keeping this a surprise.</p><p>The look on Dutch's face when I find him at the bar is fucking priceless. He's intimately acquainted with my body, but I don't think he's ever seen this much of my skin on display without it being just the two of us. </p><p>He's got his shirt open down the middle, that perfect body visible beneath, his St. Christopher sitting in the hollow between his pecs. He's pouring shots for the guys, and I think it's about time I got my own back on him for Saturday.</p><p>“How about you let someone responsible do that?” I ask, enjoying the amusement dancing in his eyes while he hands me the bottle.</p><p>I refill the shot glasses first, one for each of the guys, then I take a drink right from the bottle, knowing we'll almost definitely finish it, and maybe more between us, by the end of the party. I can't resist touching Dutch above his belt buckle, my hand finding warm, firm skin over solid muscle, so hot it's nearly burning. The lust flaring deep in his eyes is high on the list of things I <em> always </em> want to see, way up there with the wolfish grin he's rewarding me with while I swallow.</p><p>Those big, strong arms wrap around my waist, picking me up just off the floor as he pulls me against him. God, everywhere our skin touches feels like the glowing embers of a fire about to ignite my whole world, and I'm helpless to fight that when he brings his lips to mine. There's something incredible and possessive in the way he's kissing me now, like the offhand comments he's made, like how he's been openly physical with me and hasn't given a damn who saw, were actually nothing in comparison to how it's gonna be now he's my boyfriend. It's as fundamental to my existence as oxygen, now I know this is what it feels like.</p><p>His buddies have wandered off, the music is thumping, and the bass vibrates through me. He's got me backed right up against the bar now, up against my bare legs, one denim-clad thigh pushing between mine. My breath is coming fast when we're interrupted by a distinctly Jimmy-sounding cough. </p><p>“Some people need to get drinks, you know?” he says, like he's trying not to laugh. </p><p>“You offering your room?” Dutch snaps back, not even looking his way. Those brown eyes are focussed right on me, pinning me to the spot. </p><p>“No, but also, <em> move</em>.” </p><p>Dutch rolls his eyes, just as the song changes, and <em> fuck yes</em>, I wanna dance to this.</p><p>“Come on.” I say, leading him into the fray, near where Johnny and Ali are. </p><p>I'm not much of a dancer, but I can definitely put on a bit of a floorshow, and I do. I've got him right where I want him, and he's loving every second as I move around him, touching his shoulders, his chest, everywhere I can without getting <em> too </em> distracted from swaying in time to the music. His hand on my lower back supports me as he dips me down low enough that my hair brushes the floor, then pulls me right back up, smiling, into a kiss. </p><p><em> I'm so fucking in love with him, </em>I think, losing myself in it all.</p><p>It's okay to think that to myself, right? I <em> have </em> been having feelings for him forever, it should be nothing to admit these words in my own head. And yet, there's some shaky vulnerability in admitting it's way, way more than a crush.</p><p>By the time we surface, Ali and Johnny are gone, who knows where. </p><p>Dutch looks at the space where they'd been, then back at me knowingly. I hope he's right. If Ali can seal the deal her way now, they might last forever, longer than seems logically possible. I'm hoping for it, and totally ready to cheer when they get back.</p><hr/><p>Midnight comes, quicker than expected. Jimmy turns the music off, his arm around Jennifer, and they both start the countdown.</p><p>
  <em> “Ten!”  </em>
</p><p>The whole room chants along. </p><p>
  <em> “Nine!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Eight!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Seven!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Six!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Five!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Four!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Three!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Two!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“One!”</em>
</p><p>Dutch kisses me at the stroke of midnight, as 1986 becomes 1987.</p><p>
  <em> “Happy New Year!”  </em>
</p><p>Everyone’s yelling and in among the noise, he mouths “Happy New Year, sweetheart,” just for me.</p><hr/><p>Johnny and Ali have been gone a while, and it seems apparent that they're not coming back any time soon. Dutch shoots me a suggestive smirk when I mention the possibility that they're having their own little party somewhere on the beach.</p><p>“I hope no one goes looking for them.” he says, thoughtfully, after a moment. The cogs are turning near-audibly in his mind, his brow furrowed in thought, before the trouble comes right out in his grin. Oh, that could either be very bad, or very, <em> very </em>good. </p><p>“What are you thinking?” I ask. </p><p>“You'll see.”</p><p>And then he's practically bouncing off in Jimmy's direction.</p><p>I watch him whisper something in Jimmy's ear, who rolls his eyes and smiles, the pair of them heading over to the hifi, flicking through records. Jimmy holds one up, and Dutch takes it, looks at what I assume is the track listing on the back. He hands it back with an approving nod. Jimmy finds the track, almost, just catching the end of the one before. </p><p>Dutch is back in front of me in the time that takes, pushing me backwards a way through the crowd, who part slightly, til my calves hit the coffee table. I'm forced to sit there, cos he doesn't stop when I make contact, not until my knees buckle underneath me and I have to shove the debris from the party over to make space. Some bottles land on the floor, but, <em> priorities </em>. </p><p>I’m pretty much eye level with his crotch now he’s standing in front of me. I have to tilt my chin up all the way and crane my neck to look at his face, but it's worth it. The Puckish humor in his gaze is fucking killing me. At least I think it’s gonna kill me, until his body starts <em> moving </em> when the beat kicks in, and I know if I die now it's gonna be because of that instead. What a wonderful way to go. </p><p><em> Let it flow, let yourself go,<br/></em> <em>Slow and low, that is the tempo.</em></p><p>I'm wrecked. My jaw is practically on the floor. He's still looking into my eyes, and I'm thankful he's having fun with this because I think I might spontaneously combust any second now. If he's gotta live with the guilt of my untimely demise, we should at least make it good for us both. He starts grinding in my lap, hips isolated <em> perfectly. </em>The part of his stomach visible where his shirt is open is tense, almost close enough to kiss. I end up biting my lip hard enough that I'm shocked I don't taste blood.</p><p>He dances so fluidly I can't fucking breathe. The sheer amount of <em> control </em> he has of every fiber of muscle is mind-blowing, as he rolls his body, head to toe, <em> right </em> in front of my face. I don't know if I can handle it. I <em> almost </em>wish I hadn't told him about enjoying his little performance on the beach that day, cos he's taken that and turned it up to eleven for everyone's benefit tonight. </p><p>We're definitely attracting the attention of the crowd, which seems to be the goal, when Dutch moves away from me and climbs up on the coffee table behind me, kicking things out of the way as he needs. I take that as my cue to give him a little room, turning to sit on the floor and watch. </p><p>Oh, <em> wow. </em> He's beautiful, almost angelic, with his messy blond hair and his face flushed from the combination of alcohol and exertion, and his body? I wanna wax poetic about it sometime, when I can think more clearly.</p><p>There's a lot of whooping and drunken cheering, cos now he really is going for it, getting some energy back off his audience, and having a great time. He's being kinda playful with it, too, laughing as he slips off his shirt and flings it my way, catching me in the face, pouting flirtatiously at me when I pull it away from my eyes. <em> So obnoxious. </em></p><p>Some of the moves look familiar, reminiscent of the exercises he'd do at karate practice back in the day, like he's been practicing here and there since that mini tournament the guys put on not long ago. They're effective, too, as he sways to the beat. He looks damn good. </p><p>The coffee table is mostly clear, giving just enough space for him to drop to his hands and knees, so he can roll his hips like he does when he's fucking me, and yeah he’s playing it for laughs, but it's unspeakably sexy watching that motion from this angle. I dunno how I'm gonna think about anything else when he's inside me ever again. </p><p>He rolls onto his back, making a bridge with his lower body, feet planted firmly on the table and shoulders down, which frees his hands to pop open his belt buckle. Oh, <em> fuck</em>, here we go. </p><p>The crowd, a fairly even mix of guys and girls, are getting <em> way </em> into it, everyone’s inhibitions lowered enough to enjoy the show. A handful of them are now looking in earnest, appreciating his form and figure, and when I catch Connie's eye she gives me a look like maybe I should be bothered, or on the defensive, but I can't bring myself to care. I'm the one who's gonna get to go home with him when the sun comes up, there's no pang of jealousy when I'm totally fucking secure in what we have. I have no issue with them knowing what he's working with, since most everyone’s already seen, and <em> besides</em>, nobody else gets to have that now, it's all for me.</p><p>The cheering gets louder, more boisterous, especially once his jeans are off and in my lap. There's so much gorgeous, olive-toned skin on display it's hard to know where to look first, but my eyes are definitely drawn to his thick, toned thighs and the smattering of fine, dark blond hair across them. Literally everything about him makes me wanna reach out and touch, feel the lines of muscle where they move into softness, where delicate nerve endings beg to be kneaded into keen awareness.</p><p>The three and a half minutes or so of the song manage to feel like forever. He's overwhelmingly beautiful, occasionally looking back at me to see my reaction when he goes a little further. I'm not sure if he'll go all the way. I’m caught between whether to hope for total nudity or not.</p><p>He's playing with the waistband of his underwear, hooking his thumbs just low enough to expose his hips, then sliding backwards as he moves, pulling the fabric down to show off the curve of his ass. If ever an ass has <em> begged </em> to be bitten, it's this one; all ample, taut, round muscle I just wanna sink my teeth into. I don't know if I'm gonna be able to hold it together once he's done here. Fucking <em> hell.</em> </p><p>Then the song's over and there's a shitload of enthusiastic applause. I'm basically only capable of blinking, willing myself functional enough that I'm not literally drooling when he lands on his knees in front of me. </p><p>“How was that?” he asks. </p><p>I'm breathless, and incredulous, and a bunch of other big words my brain can't find while it's misfiring like this. “<em>Fuck.</em> What do you think?”</p><p>He grins at me, leaning in to kiss what little sense I had left completely away.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Excitable</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>New Years Eve, Part Two. Dutch and Tina spend some time with their friends.<br/>You should be done with Malibu by now, since some of the themes here spoil all the way to the end. I also recommend checking out Violet Bloom now, which is our Tommy/Susan fic.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Johnny and Ali get back while a bunch of us are out on the patio. Jimmy leads the cheer, a big vindicated “Woo!” that gets everyone's attention on the couple kissing sweetly in the middle. I guess most of us have come around on them, cos a beat later it seems like everyone's celebrating. </p><p>It's awesome, seeing everyone excited for Johnny and Ali, being <em> able </em> to be, apart from the notable two, who are at least softening a little now they see it's happened. They're a lot alike, in some ways. They're certainly the only two here carrying that same pain right now, and that has a kinda irony to it. The people who hurt each other are the only ones left really understanding <em> how </em> they're hurting.</p><p>Now Ali's got her guy back, and I'm not perpetually single anymore, and Barbara has Bobby, and Connie… Well, she's still standing a little close to Freddy, but whatever is going on there is subtle.</p><p>Anyway the point is that, from what I've gathered from Dutch, from what Tommy's said in my presence, and from what Susan's told me direct, they're both still real fucked up over their breakup. Even after all this time. If they clear the air, anything could happen. </p><p>Nothing's <em> gonna </em> happen for a while, in part because Erin and Tommy are still together, though less closely than they were earlier. I just wish someone would give them a shove in the right direction, since this seems to have been the winter for it. </p><p>Johnny and Ali have been pulled apart by curious friends, and everyone wants to know <em>everything</em> that's led them to this point. Dutch and I make our way over to Ali first. </p><p>“Happy New Year, huh?” I say with a smirk. </p><p>She's got this blushy, blissful face on when she agrees, the face of a woman well-laid, and it's almost too much not to make fun of.</p><p>“Some of us had to make do with a kiss at midnight,” Dutch teases Ali, and I enjoy that he took the words pretty much right out of my mouth. </p><p>It might have been received better from me, but she doesn't seem too bothered when she tells him “It's none of your business, and don't even think of asking Johnny, either, because I'll know.”</p><p>I laugh. “Oh, I'm pretty sure he knows what's good for him, by now. But if he forgets y'know my old offer always stands. Just call, day or night.”</p><p>Ali laughs. “I don't think I'll need to. But thanks Tina, for caring.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, it's what friends are for, right?”</p><p>Dutch excuses himself to the bathroom, and I take the opportunity to squeeze my way through people until I can talk to Johnny. I wait until I have a quiet moment, when it's just him paying attention, to bring up what I wanna say.</p><p>“I'm glad you got it together, Johnny. She deserves the world, I wanna see you give it to her.” </p><p>He rubs his hand across the back of his neck, an almost bashful smile on his face. “I'm gonna try.”</p><p>“I don't wanna have to tell you, if you fuck this up, you're fucking it for all of us. <em> Don't</em>. There's a lot of desert out there where nobody would find your body.”</p><p>“I'd die before I hurt her again,” he says, and I believe him. </p><p>“Oh yeah?" I chuckle, patting him on the shoulder, which is a challenge to do since he's so damn tall. “Cos you'll die <em> after</em>, so try and remember what the better deal is.” </p><p>“Promise. Scout's honor.” Johnny smirks. </p><p>I roll my eyes instinctively. “Fuck were you <em> ever </em>a Boy Scout.”</p><p>“True. That was Dutch.”</p><p>I choke on my drink, and he laughs as I cough and splutter, right when Susan comes over to give her own words of warning. </p><p>I decide to find somewhere else to be.</p><hr/><p>I don't usually smoke when I drink, it's too easy to get too fucked up. But tonight's a special occasion, and Dutch rolled a helluva joint, and it's a real nice excuse to get away from everyone else for a while. </p><p>We're out on the patio, since people have started to filter back inside and the groups have spread out a little. Some people are talking about setting up a drinking game in there, and maybe we'll go and join them later, but for now we've found a quiet corner. Johnny's gonna come out to us in a while, but he's off taking a piss or getting something to eat or <em> I don't even fucking know</em>. For now it's just us.</p><p>Me and Dutch. Officially a couple. Getting high and giggling like idiots, and everything is right in the world. I'm sideways in his lap, and <em> this is exactly where I'd like to spend the rest of my whole entire goddamn life.</em></p><p>And then I realize I said at least part of that out loud, and he's looking at me funny, and my heart is starting to race under his scrutiny. He doesn't say anything at first, just puts the joint to his lips and tokes, the bright red cherry flaring in the dim light.</p><p>He holds the breath for a second, then pulls my face to his. I figure out what we're doing just in time, when he fits his mouth around mine and we breathe <em> together</em>. I've never done this before, never shared the same hit like this. I'm pretty sure someone once told me it's less intense, that you don't get so much from it, but there's nothing lacking in this moment. It’s fucking mind-blowing.</p><p>We separate and I blow out my own breath, but I <em> totally </em> wanna do it again. The second time and it’s me pulling the smoke into my lungs and pushing it into his. My head's spinning and I don't know if it's him, or the dope, or the booze. Maybe all three. <em> Probably all three. </em></p><p>I'm internally cursing Johnny just a little when he returns, only cos I <em> never </em> wanna stop doing that, impractical as it is. Johnny sits down opposite, and Dutch sighs when I lean over to pass the joint across the space between us, so Johnny can have his turn.</p><p>“It's been a good party.” he says on his exhale. </p><p>I can't help but look down at Dutch, so perfect, so warm, with his arms around my waist holding me close. I answer, “Yeah, the best.”</p><p>There's a little pause, where Dutch is just looking back at me, stroking the outside of my thigh, and it's almost easy to forget that Johnny's there until he coughs. Happens to the best of us, sometimes.</p><p>“So when's the next show start?” he teases. </p><p>Dutch laughs, that dirty, sexy way he does, and grins at Johnny past me. “Thought you were glad you missed the first one? You hopin' for a second?”</p><p>I'm totally euphoric, feeling like nothing in the world could ever get me down. At least, until I hear Tommy's good-natured bitching coming from Johnny's direction, and that levels me out a little.</p><p>“You know, if history starts to repeat itself, I want it known that I asked for a dinosaur.” he says, plucking the joint from Johnny's fingers despite some minor protests, and finding a chair. </p><p>“I thought you were gonna drop it?” Johnny asks, a little sharper than I'm used to hearing from him. “You might not have noticed, but some of us learn from our mistakes.” </p><p>“I've learned fine. Do <em> you </em> see me making the same one again?”</p><p>“Don't see you making much of anything.” I smile, trying to sound friendly despite the dig.</p><p>I guess I'm feeling a little loose cos of the combination of stuff going down in my brain, otherwise I wouldn't risk rocking the boat so much, but I feel like maybe we're on good enough terms right now. It's not like I think Susan and Tommy are gonna fix their entire past and suddenly be yet another happy couple here, but they could be friends. Maybe. In the right circumstances. That's gotta be healthier than pretending to ignore each other, right? </p><p>“What's that supposed to mean?” Tommy sits back in his seat, looking across at me and Dutch.</p><p>“You <em> know </em> what I mean. You're treading water.”</p><p>He passes to me, frowning slightly, and I take a drag then hand it off to Dutch.</p><p>“You gonna let her talk to me like this, man?” he asks, a wry smile playing at the edge of his mouth, like he knows what the answer's gonna be anyway. </p><p>Dutch shrugs, and his chuckle sounds real good to my ears right now. “Guess I am.”</p><p>“As a chick, I reserve the right to give you unwelcome advice.” I grin. “So, word to the wise? Stop being an ass for five minutes and see what happens.”</p><p>Tommy rolls his eyes as though I couldn't possibly know what I'm talking about. </p><p>“As a dude, I reserve the right to think you're full of shit.” he laughs, looking up at the night sky. </p><p>I flip him off, laughing along, which he returns. It's almost affectionate, in a very Tommy sorta way. </p><p>“Not even gonna ask what you think,” he shoots at Johnny, who I guess he's decided is gonna fall on my side of things since he's back with Ali now. Who knows, though. </p><p>But then the topic changes, onto some show Tommy and Dutch have been watching, for the next few minutes, until we all decide to go in.</p><p>This drinking game is gonna get messy, I just know it. </p><p>The aim seems to be to find out who can down their drinks the fastest, facing off in pairs on the coffee table. It's chaos, but I play a round, and I beat Ali, who so sweetly thought she stood a chance when she decided to throw down the gauntlet. I'm celebrating my win, when Dutch climbs up on the table to face off against me. He's shirtless. <em> Where did his shirt go, again? </em> <em>That's</em> <em> distracting.  </em></p><p>We throw the rules out the window after he smiles at me while our drinks are passed up to us. He links our arms, and we drink, looking at each other when we swallow. Fucking <em> hell</em>. That thought might have crossed his mind too, because the next thing he’s kissing me like I won Olympic gold, and I guess Johnny <em> does </em> get that second show, kinda.</p><hr/><p>I’m all hot and bothered, the combination of weed and alcohol and boy doing things in my brain, so we head down to the beach, where Bobby’s watching some of the less-inebriated girls showing off their cheer skills. I’ve got my jacket, but it’s slung across my shoulder, casually, and Dutch is doing the same with his shirt. </p><p>Bobby’s looking all dreamy, starry-eyed over at Barbara, who is totally in her element, working out choreography with some of the older girls. She looks so sweet, her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, pulled back from her pretty face. It’s good she has someone who appreciates her in all her wholesome glory.</p><p>“Hey, dipshit,” Dutch says, throwing himself down in the sand alongside Bobby, “having fun?”</p><p>Bobby grins and shoves Dutch lightly, “Wouldn’t you be if you got to watch your girl do that?” he laughs, the barest hint of a blush rising to his cheeks. “Hey, Tina. You didn’t cheer, did you?”</p><p>Dutch pats the space in between his legs, which I guess is my seat now. Regardless of where we’re actually sitting, the idea of personal space has long fallen by the wayside. Once I’m comfortable, I turn back to Bobby. </p><p>“No, never been one for team sports. It’s a shame, cos with my build, I’d have made a decent linebacker.” I pop my arm up and flex, enjoying the impressed, just appropriately appreciative, look on his face. “Cheer practice would have cut into my skateboarding time.”</p><p>I’m glad Dutch’s friends see me as basically one of the guys, cos I’m pretty comfortable around them all now. I’ve dated guys before who were precious about how not-girly I can be, especially around their buddies, and this is about as far from that as possible. I fit in enough that it’s fun to be around them, almost as much as my girls.</p><p>Bobby nods. “I felt the same til I started soccer. Did Dutch tell you we're gonna start up karate again?” </p><p>“Oh yeah? I knew he'd been training a bit, but nothing major. Keeping secrets from me, huh?” I crane my head around to look at Dutch behind me.</p><p>“Not a secret,” he grins, squeezing my arm above the elbow. “Just hadn't made solid plans yet.”</p><p>I lean into him a little heavier, grateful for his arms wrapping around me and holding me to him. “I'm glad to hear it. You guys looked like you had a lot of fun the other night. Would suck to let that go because of some asshole.”</p><p>“Fuckin' right.” Dutch agrees, and I love the warmth in his voice when he does.</p><hr/><p>Later, when I've sobered up a lot, Dutch and the other four guys disappear off down the beach. I can see them from up where I'm sitting on the patio, in a big group of girls, with a few of the other guys around. They look whole down there, the five of them, and there's a little twinge in my heart at the idea that soon, we'll all be immersed back into our regular lives and they won't get this. Twice a week for over a month, we've recaptured so much of the magic of our happiest days at school, and their friendship was usually at the center of things, as much as anything else that happened. </p><p>We've built on it, now, and I wanna see it last, wherever we go from here. Some things are meant to last forever, and those five idiots, who are now stripping down to their underwear and dashing into the ocean, are one of them.</p><p>“Jennifer?” I call, “You gotta come see this!”</p><p>Like a cross between Martha Stewart and Tinker Bell, she appears at my shoulder, in her grown-up but somehow ethereal way, with a curious “Hm?” </p><p>I watch her face closely for the moment recognition dawns on her face as she sees her boyfriend play-fighting his buddies in the ocean, the five of them somewhat brutally dunking each other in turns. </p><p>When it does, it's like a light goes on. Her little groan of exasperation gives way to an amused giggle, and everyone else has to look over and see what's what. </p><p>“I'm going down there,” I say to Ali. “You coming?”</p><p>“I have to. I can't believe your boyfriend's leading mine astray again.” Ali laughs, as the five of us, the girlfriends, head over to the beach steps. </p><p>“Oh, no, not this time. You've got Jimmy to thank for this,” I grin. “I saw it.”</p><p>“They're as bad as each other,” Barbara sighs fondly. </p><p>“Well, maybe mine is a <em> little </em> worse. But I like that.”</p><p>“Of course you do.” Jen nudges my arm, pushing me gently. </p><p>“Hey, you all wanted me to grow up and get a real boyfriend. Be careful what you wish for, girls.”</p><p>When we make it down to the edge of the water, the other four girls are looking <em> so </em>disapproving. I dunno how, cos the guys look great, and they're having so much fun, I can't help but laugh. They come together, the moonlight dancing on their wet skin, and all end up leaning on each other. It's so perfect. Dutch is hanging off Johnny's shoulder, his trademark since as long as I've known him. </p><p>“See something you like?” asks Tommy. </p><p>Jennifer says, “I see five idiots.”</p><p>“Who are gonna be freezing,” Barbara adds.</p><p>“I guess we’ll warm up somewhere,” Johnny says, presumably with Ali in mind, but I'm not looking for her reaction because I've had an idea and I'm busy following through with it. </p><p>It doesn't take much effort to get my leather miniskirt off, while Dutch yells out encouragingly, and even less to rid myself of the tank top. Then I'm dropping my glasses into the pile of clothing so I can find them later, and running into the water, where Dutch is waiting with open arms. I launch myself at him, letting out a delighted noise when he scoops me up, bridal-style, and carries me out into deeper water. </p><p>I adore him. I <em> do.</em> There's never been anyone who makes me feel like this, from day one to now, and it's <em>insane</em>. I'm so very thankful that he's kissing me this urgently, and I don't have a chance to say it out loud. I try and put what I'm feeling into physical cues, as though the movement of my body can tell him everything he needs to know, anyway.</p><p>Despite what I guess the rest of our friends might expect of us, we spend most of our time in the water just kissing, holding onto one another as the waves lap at our bodies. I'm glad they don't get to see these moments close up; I'm okay with them knowing how much we want each other, cos sex is easy and uncomplicated, but <em> this </em> is just for us. </p><p>I'm enjoying these quiet seconds that are just ours and nobody else's. We have reputations to uphold, after all.</p><p>After a long time, we break apart, and we swim together for a while, splashing each other occasionally for laughs, joking and teasing about all sorts of shit that really doesn't matter. </p><hr/><p>We go out on the beach to watch the sun rise on a new year, over the hills. It's still mostly dark on our way down, and most everyone is already out here by the time Dutch and I make our way out with a couple of blankets. I'm gonna pretend I didn't see Freddy's hand against the small of Connie's back as I walked past their little group. Subtle, right. </p><p>My hair's still a little damp, and that salty ocean smell still lingers, not unpleasantly. We've had breakfast, just a little something from the spread Jennifer put on, and I've got that satisfied feeling that permeates my whole body. Warm, fluffy, joyous.</p><p>We settle down in the sand, and of course he pulls me into his arms as we lay there together, watching the sky begin to turn. This is Dutch, after all. If he usually likes you and <em> doesn't </em> want to touch you, you should probably worry. The bigger the like, the more with the touching.</p><p>It's beyond stunning, out here at day break, more than I'd ever do any justice at describing. Jimmy's lucky that he gets to have this pretty much whenever he wants, though there's as much magic in the company as the setting right now. The first rays of light start to tinge the sky with those shades of orange, pink, and violet blending into the indigo of the night, I'm just lost in the emotion of it. </p><p>I lay there silent, in Dutch's arms, his body warm and heavy and solid along my back, trying <em> so hard </em> not to open my mouth, because everything that wants to come out is something I can't take back. I stay there, watching the sky brighten, until I feel his breath deepen and his hold on me relax as he eases into sleep, and then I close my eyes, too.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Iron Horse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tina has an interview. Dutch takes Tina on a date.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Takes place between chapters 16 and 17 of Malibu. </p><p>So we're drawing towards the end of Malibu and Jimmy's parties, which will coincide with the end of this fic, and the first arc of Dutch and Tina's story. I will be writing a sequel, but I'm gonna take a break to work on some other stuff, and hopefully I'm going to write most of the sequel in advance. I've got most of the final two chapters of RT written up, so it's just a case of finishing and polishing them over the next couple of weeks. I should have a nice surprise for you at the end, too, if all goes well. </p><p>Thank you so much for sharing this story with me, and for loving Tina even a fraction of the amount that I do. A lot of my heart has made it into her, and I'm really grateful that so many of you have taken to her so well.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Got a call this morning,” Dad says, sounding cautious. Based on his approach, I could put money on the subject matter being either me going back to college or me getting a job. Difficult topics for us, of late. </p><p>“Oh yeah?” I ask. He's interrupted me getting ready for my first interview, while I'm standing in front of the mirror trying to brush my hair into something resembling a neat, professional ponytail. On a regular day, that would set some alarm bells ringing for him, so the fact he hasn't questioned it gives me a good idea what he's about to say next. </p><p>“Mike wanted to give me a heads up that you're coming in for an interview. So that was how I found out, since you didn't tell me yourself.”</p><p>I put down the hairbrush with a sigh, glancing over to where he's standing, almost hovering in the doorway. It's weird, seeing him look so hesitant, trying to hold back whatever he's really wanting to say. I find it hard to look at, so I look away. </p><p>“I told you I was gonna start asking around.” I try to match his tone, polite but firm. Maybe a little firmer. I don't want this to spiral into something it doesn't have to be. </p><p>“Asking around ain't the same as an interview.”</p><p>“I was gonna tell you if I got it. I need a job, Dad."</p><p>I'd put money on the silence stretching between us being because he's rolling his eyes behind my back. It's better than arguing.</p><p>“You out this weekend?” </p><p>“Yeah, Dutch is taking me out tonight then we're going to Jimmy's tomorrow. Think we're coming back here tonight. Why?”</p><p>“Is it a crime to want to know where my daughter is?” </p><p>“Guess not.”</p><p>There's a little pause before my dad speaks, and I turn to face him again, digging deep for courage. I shift from foot to foot, totally unsure of myself. </p><p>Dad takes a deep breath, lets it out in a heavy sigh. “He seems like a good kid. I owe him an apology over Christmas, don’t I?”</p><p>Didn't think I'd hear that today. Eventually, sure, just not yet. I need to make sure I do right by Dutch in this conversation, cos if I let my dad's behavior on Christmas day slide too easy, I'll never really forgive myself for letting it set the tone of things between them. </p><p>“He is, and you do. He doesn’t have much by way of family, so I wanted to share how good ours is with him. And then...” I trail off, not wanting to rehash the whole argument. </p><p>“Yeah,” he nods. “I’m glad he’s treating you right. I'll try and do better.”</p><p>“I really like him, Dad. I don't wanna pretend I'm not happy I'm staying in the Valley and I don't have to miss him like hell. But I wouldn't have stayed if he were the <em> only </em> reason. If it's right, like I think it is, we could have lasted that anyway.”</p><p>“You know I want you to be happy, don’t you? I just want you to have a better life than I did. With your mom not around, and...”</p><p>My heart feels like it could break hearing that, and I’ve gotta swallow hard around the lump in my throat. “I know. And I’m sorry I didn't tell you about the interview. It's not a big deal, it probably won't come to anything.”</p><p>“Don't say that,” he sighs. He sounds reluctant when he adds, “You're a great mechanic; half those guys working for Mike could learn a thing or two from you.” </p><p>“And yet, you'd still rather take on someone else rather than have me in the shop full time.” I smile wryly.</p><p>“Don't push it, Bean.”</p><p>I hold up my hands in surrender. “Alright, I'm just saying.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I'm <em> just saying </em> you should go back to college. At some point.”</p><p>“Nice try.”</p><p>“It was worth a shot, huh?” he chuckles, shaking his head. </p><p>When he walks off, I feel lighter, like even though it was difficult, it didn't go so bad after all. </p>
<hr/><p>I'm dismounting my bike outside Mike Matthews' shop, when the old man comes out to meet me, this huge smile on his face. Robert, Mike's dad, used to run the business before he decided to retire. My dad worked here for nearly ten years before he quit to go out on his own, and they stayed pretty close even after that.</p><p>I'd been around this place, usually underfoot, for most of my childhood unless I was at school. Mike’s older, but he’d been pretty much the same, just a scrawny teenager trying to learn the family business by then instead of a little kid with nowhere better to be. So I grew up seeing Robert as an uncle of sorts, and Mike more like a cousin than any blood relation. I'm pretty sure that connection is what got my foot in the door here, cos Mike won't give two shits about what my dad's gonna say about me working for him, and any other rival businesses taking me on has the potential to make waves they won’t want. </p><p>“Tina! You've grown again.” Robert says, walking over while I'm trying to stash my gloves in my helmet. </p><p>“Rob, I haven't grown an inch since ninth grade.” I remind him, as I'm pulled into a hug. “But it's nice of you to keep saying it.”</p><p>“Mikey tells me you're looking for a job?” </p><p>“Yeah. I'm done with college. It's not working out, so…” I gesture vaguely. </p><p>Robert nods along in understanding. “Bet your dad's taking it well.”</p><p>“Hah! Not at all.”</p><p>“Well, we'll see what we can do.” </p><p>“I’m grateful for the opportunity.”</p><p>“If only that were the case for all the kids we see through here. Mike took on an apprentice last summer,<em> absolute idiot.” </em></p><p>“That bad, huh?” </p><p>Robert crosses his arms over his chest, exuding a disapproving energy I wouldn't wanna be on the receiving end of, which is somehow at odds with his usually friendly demeanor. “His girlfriend's nephew. Somehow he got talked into it and now he can't get rid of the kid.”</p><p>“Ouch.”</p><p>“You know I wouldn't mind if he put in the work, but the boy's an asshole,” he sighs. “Anyway, what can you do? I let Mikey run things, and he makes his own choices.”</p><p>“Yeah, it's gotta be hard giving over that control of things.”</p><p>“Usually it's not so bad.” Robert says, checking his watch. I'm due inside soon, and I'd bet he knows that. “Don't let me keep you, I was just heading home. It's good to see you, Tina.” </p><p>“Great to see you too, Rob.” </p><p>“Tell your dad I said hi.”</p><p>“I will.” We hug again, before he leaves me there and climbs into his truck.</p><p>Given that backstory, this could go well or be a complete shitshow, and I guess now I get to find out which. With a steadying breath, I try to shake out my nerves. I can <em> do </em> this. It's better that I'm here for my first job interview than anywhere else. Helmet tucked under my arm, I make my way inside. </p><p>There's a blonde girl behind the counter. Sarah, I think her name is. I don't know her well, but we've crossed paths when I've come by to pick up parts in the past. </p><p>I wave at her as I push the door open. “Hey. I'm here to see Mike?”</p><p>She greets me with a bright smile. “Tina, right?” </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“He's in his office waiting for you. You know where it is? Just head on through the back.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>Her enthusiasm is catching, and I can feel it bolster my own mood when she says, “Good luck! I’ve got a good feeling about you.”</p><p>Workshops like this are pretty much all fundamentally the same on the inside. Lots of corrugated iron, the smells of fuel and engine oil and cleaning fluids, half the walls papered with topless women, centerfolds ripped from dirty magazines. Mike's office is no different, really.</p><p>As far as interviews go, this has been about as informal as it gets. Mike’s known me basically my entire life, and I’m glad he’s not treating me too differently to how he usually would. </p><p>He's got his longish brown hair pushed back from his face, and he's looking at me carefully, assessing me with pale blue eyes. </p><p>“I'll level with you,” Mike sighs, leaning back in his chair and sticking his boots up on the desk between us. “We don't have a lot of girls around the shop, just Sarah, and she's not a mechanic. I know you can do the work, but I can't guarantee you'll be comfortable, and I don't think a lot of the clients are gonna like a girl working on their cars.”</p><p>“I can take whatever hazing and bullshit your guys wanna throw at me, Mike. I can keep up.” I make a real effort to put across how determined I am, cos I know this isn't gonna be an easy ride for me, and I'm not expecting it.</p><p>“I don't know, Tina. I look at you and still see that snot-nosed little brat in her daddy's jacket, always hanging around and starting shit.”</p><p>I bark out a laugh. It doesn't surprise me that he still sees me that way really. “Come on, <em> so </em> much has changed. I've got my <em> own </em> jacket now.”</p><p>He shakes his head, then furrows his brow in thought, like he's weighing up whether whatever he's about to do is worth any potential fallout.</p><p>“There's a big contract coming up, gonna need an extra pair of hands. It's temporary, six weeks, eight tops. Starts Monday.”</p><p>I break out in an ecstatic grin. “Yeah, of course, anything! Thanks, Mike. You don't know how much I appreciate the chance.”</p><p>“You're welcome. Say hi to your dad, yeah?”</p><p>I'm halfway to leaving the office, when he calls me back. “Hey, Tina?” </p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p>“Don't worry about your dad. He'll come around, mine did.”</p><p>I’ve gotta take a beat to let that sink in. I’d always thought Robert just handed over the keys to the business when he wanted to leave, but I guess there must have been more to it. Maybe we've got even more in common than I’d known. “Thanks, Mike. Means a lot that you think that.” </p><p>I walk out of there on cloud goddamn nine, smiling ear to ear. Until I realize I've gotta go home and deliver the news. <em> Fuck</em>.</p>
<hr/><p>My dad’s not home when I get back, so I head to my room and start getting ready. Dutch is picking me up at seven, then we'll drive down near the strip, park a couple blocks away and walk the rest. I can't remember the last time I went on an actual date, and despite having crossed just about every other threshold in this relationship so far, I'm weirdly nervous about it. I shouldn't be, I know. </p><p>Yet, here I am, taking my hair down, trying to get it looking right again, and getting progressively more irritated when I can’t. <em> Shit </em>. I give up, and set about grabbing myself a beer from the fridge.</p><p>I'm leaving the kitchen just in time to see Dad's truck pull onto the driveway, and then he's getting out, walking up to the house. I meet him at the door before I can chicken out. If <em> I'm </em> here, and <em> he's </em> here, I might as well face the music. </p><p>“How'd it go?” he asks, before I can say anything. He seems to know, anticipate that’s why I’m hanging around instead of in my room getting ready.</p><p>“It went well, Mike and Rob say hi. Mike's got some work coming up, so I'm gonna go help out for a few weeks.”</p><p>I still can’t tell how he's gonna react. It could go either way, after our talk this morning. I take a sip from my bottle, hoping somehow the action is gonna soothe my nerves. </p><p>“Okay,” he says, taking off his jacket. Just… <em> okay</em>.</p><p>“Okay? That's all?”</p><p>“Yeah, that's all. Doesn't matter what I say, right?”</p><p>“Not really.” I confirm, hesitantly. </p><p>“Besides, it’s Mike, he’ll piss you off totally in a week, two tops.” </p><p>“Right, because I have<em> no </em> experience tolerating him being a jerk.”</p><p>“You haven’t worked with him. Yet.”</p><p>There's still a weird knot of anxiety in my chest where there should be happiness and excitement. I’m opening my mouth to say something, anything, to relieve the tension, when I’m cut short.<br/>
“Anyway, you’ll need the cash for <em> this</em>.”<br/>
I'm confused. “For what?”</p><p>“Come outside,” he waves me out the door. </p><p>I slip my feet into my sneakers and step out onto the porch, where I can see something strapped in on the bed of his truck. On closer inspection, the <em> something </em>is a bike.</p><p>“What’s this?” I ask, already hopping down the steps, right over to the back to unfold the tailgate.</p><p>“Peace offering.” He stays a few paces behind, but I catch the amusement in his eyes as I hop up to get a better look.</p><p>It’s one of my dream bikes, a Honda CBX 1000Z, and it’s, well, it’s <em> real </em> beat up. That doesn’t matter so much, I <em> was </em> looking for a project, so I just need a decent donor bike to get started. “And this is… for me?”</p><p>Dad knows I’ve had my eye on this model for a while, knows the work I wanna do in pretty explicit detail, and the next thing out of his mouth is some frankly serendipitous shit. “Got pulled in after an accident. Owner’s girlfriend flipped her wig, convinced him to scrap it. The engine’s fine. Most everything else needs some kinda work.”</p><p>“Right.” I say, not quite believing what's happening.</p><p>“You still wanted that Moto Martin frame kit?”</p><p>I can’t do much but nod. “Yeah.”</p><p>“I’ll get it on order, you can pay me back.”</p><p>I’m nearly dumbstruck, tears pricking the backs of my eyes. Holy shit. “Dad, this is…”</p><p>Fucking hell. I climb down from the truck and find myself enveloped into a hug.</p><p>“I <em> am </em> sorry, Tina. For not supporting you.” he says, and I lean my head against his chest. Nobody in the world gives hugs like my dad, hugs that make me feel like I'm five years old and nothing can ever hurt me. “I want you to know that you're not disappointing me. You make smart choices, <em> mostly</em>, you're just too much like me for your own damn good.”</p><p>“I'm sorry, too. I guess I am a lot like you, huh?” </p><p>“Reckon I owe you for that alone.” he chuckles, letting me go.</p><p>“It's not so bad. I could always be like Mom.”</p><p>“C'mon, Beans, don't start talking bad about her now.”</p><p>I sigh. Dad's always been, in my mind, a little too understanding of whatever makes my mom keep us both at arm’s length. I guess he knows her better than I do, than I ever will. But he gave up a lot sooner than I did, kept his heart safe from her flakiness in a way I never could as her kid.</p><p>“Let's get this off the truck,” he says, changing the topic, finding us something else to keep us busy, like he always does when he thinks about her too much. I have to let him have that, even though it sucks.</p>
<hr/><p>Dutch arrives early, when I've just finished the dishes after dinner. He comes all the way to the door, and I dry my hands to go answer, pulling it open right as he's about to knock. </p><p>I take in the sight of him, another image for the album, looking <em> mind-blowingly </em> hot in a black button-down shirt, open at the neck, almost to where I can see his necklace sit against his chest if he moves just so.</p><p>“Hey,” he greets me, and it reminds me his eyes are up there, not where I was staring. Yep, he noticed, and he's grinning at me, eyes dancing with delight at my open appreciation of him.</p><p>“Hi.” I step forward to kiss him, trying not get too swept up in how goddamn <em> gorgeous </em> he is, the complete fucking package. “I'm not ready, you wanna come in?”</p><p>“Yeah, sure.” </p><p>I realize when I'm closing the door behind him, that he's got something in his hand. It's a cactus, in a little clay pot. </p><p>“Thought about getting you flowers, and then, I dunno. Didn't seem you. You liked Shelly, didn't you?” </p><p>I could die, he's so perfect. The cactus is round and spiky and honestly just about what you'd expect, as far as cacti go, but the whole gesture is adorable. He hands it over, our fingers brushing lightly as we make the transfer.</p><p>“She's beautiful, thanks,” I smile. “Has she got a name?”</p><p>“Nah, not yet.” </p><p>“Wanna help me pick one?”</p><p>“Sure,” he says. “How about Ruth?”</p><p>I look at him, eyebrow raised. “Really? Are we naming a cactus or an old lady?” </p><p>He shrugs, smirking. “So pick something better.”</p><p>“Let's talk it over on the way, I gotta get changed. Dad's in the living room, if you wanna say hi.”</p><p>I make a home on my nightstand for the cactus. Now that I think about it, it looks kinda like it's always been there, like without it, there'd be something missing. </p><p>I wiggle out of my jeans and into a different pair, switch my dress shirt out for a tight black tee, and throw on a layer of red lipstick to pull it all together. After teasing my hair and spraying a cloud of hairspray thick enough to make my eyes water, I'm done. </p><p>I make it out of my room, and I can hear my dad and Dutch talking. I feel weird eavesdropping, but my dad said he’d apologize, and I’m way too curious not to. I stop in the hall and listen. I <em> think </em>I’m catching the end of it.</p><p>“-screwed up. Shouldn’t have assumed, shouldn’t have dragged you into it. It wasn’t fair, and it’s not the impression I want you to have of our family. Not if you're sticking around, which Tina seems to be set on.” </p><p>“S’alright, you were worried.” Dutch says, “You care about her.”</p><p>My dad sighs. “I was, I do. Don't make it right, though. You've known Tina a while, haven't you?”</p><p>“Sorta. Not so well until these last couple weeks.”</p><p>“Then let me give you a word of advice. Under all the attitude, she's about the kindest girl you could hope to meet. <em> I know, </em> I'm obliged to say that about my own kid. But go careful with her, because she’ll have you think she’s tougher than any man if she gets her way. You just keep on treating her right, and don’t take her for granted. She's not Wonder Woman.”</p><p>“Yes, sir. She’s special, don't have to tell me that.” Dutch says, with a sense of sincerity I find totally disarming.</p><p>I try to clear my throat about the lump rapidly forming there, and blink hard against tears I can feel threatening to come.</p>
<hr/><p>The night air feels cool where my t-shirt sticks to my sweat-damp skin. We’re walking to the car, the noise of the club still present in my head, and Dutch has his arm around me, right where it belongs. It’s been an amazing night. My life <em> finally </em> feels like it’s really coming together, and I’m still not sure how that happened. The band were great, the energy in the place was incredible, and all of <em> that </em> somehow pales in comparison to <em> this. </em> To him. </p><p>I hum in contentment when we reach his car and he pushes me up against the door, bending his head to capture my lips with his own. </p><p>“Fuck,” he gasps when my hand finds its way inside his t-shirt, up against the heat of his bare skin, fingers digging in hard with how much I want him. “Not gonna make it back to your place if you keep doing that.”</p><p>I laugh, but ease up all the same. “That a threat, or a promise?”</p><p>Sighing heavily, Dutch pushes back, away from me. “Neither. Just get in the fucking car?”</p><p>“And you say <em> I’m </em>bossy.”</p><p>“Only cos you are.”</p><p>I pop the passenger door and climb in, settling back into my seat while he comes around to the driver’s side. He starts the engine, and the purr as he lets it idle almost starts to negate the ringing sound in my ears.</p><p>“Look in the glove compartment,” he says. I’m puzzled, but I do, expecting he’s gonna ask me to pass him his gloves or something.</p><p>Instead, a little rectangular box is there, giftwrapped more securely than Fort Knox, in the almost supernaturally neat way that maybe only sales assistants know how.</p><p>“Is that for me?” I ask, knowing the answer, but feeling obliged to check.</p><p>“Yeah. Open it.”</p><p>I do, methodically. I start by pulling the ribbon loose, sliding my finger into the seam along the edge, tearing slightly where it’s taped down, unfolding the paper, savoring every moment along the way.</p><p>I pop open the box, and inside, along the length of it, sits this sturdy silver chain with a T-bar closure. I’ve never been one to wear jewellery, but I’d wear this happily, and I guess I’m gonna, since it’s mine, now. I’m amazed. It’s not totally feminine, and the fact he knew that I’d prefer this over something more girly is just <em> breathtaking</em>.</p><p>“It’s beautiful, Dutch. Thank you.” I sit back and breathe for a moment, pushing down the feeling swelling up in my chest that’s telling me I’m gonna cry with how happy I am. I steady myself and try again while I’m fastening the chain around my neck. “<em> Thank you. </em> For everything. I’m lucky to have you.”</p><p>“Well, I owed you something for Christmas,” he says, then when he realizes there’s more going on in my head, he frowns at me and asks, “What’s up?” </p><p>I shrug lightly, and smile. “Oh, so I can’t be grateful for my boyfriend?”</p><p>“Not if there’s something you’re not telling me. C'mon, out with it.”</p><p>He pulls out onto the street, and it’s hard not to lose my train of thought as I stare out the window. Holy shit, I am <em> tired</em>.</p><p>“I just had a <em> really </em>good day.” I sigh, shifting around so I can look at him better. He's so handsome, it’s astounding.</p><p>“So, <em> tell me about it.” </em> The instruction is firm enough that I could hardly argue if I'd wanted to, which I don't.</p><p>“I had that interview I told you about. Got the job.”</p><p>“No shit?” he asks, incredulous. I’d be offended if he didn’t look so fucking proud.</p><p>“It’s temporary. But yeah,” I smile. “So then I got home and I found out my dad brought home a bike for me to work on. You have to see it, it's gonna be so fucking rad. And then after, you picked me up, and we had the best first date I think I’ve ever been on, and now <em> here we are.” </em></p><p>Dutch shakes his head in disbelief. “I thought <em> my </em> day was going well. Y'know, your dad apologized for last time we saw each other.” </p><p>“Good, I’m glad.” I say, and then, as an afterthought, “I’m sorry, didn't mean to one-up you.” I reach across the space between us and place my hand on his knee, finding his warmth so comforting, even through the denim.</p><p>“Don't be. Night's not over yet.”</p><p>There’s a promise in that, and it’s too good <em> not </em>to escalate. “Oh yeah? Maybe I could make it even better. Try and help you catch up.”</p><p>“Best first date, huh? Lotta catching up to do,” he grins, like I just had the best idea he's heard in a while.</p><p>A laugh bubbles up out of my chest without warning. “Don’t get cocky.”</p><p>“Too late,” he replies. <em>“Way</em> too late.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Just What I Needed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Last Party, Part 1, and our penultimate chapter. Make sure you've finished Malibu before you start this.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There's some kinda dress code for this party tonight. It's the last one, so I guess the aim is to make things special by making everyone put in extra effort.</p><p>Most of the girls are gonna be all dolled up, and the guys are gonna be in fucking chinos with button-downs or some shit like that, all pristine and preppy. They'll look great, and I’m glad for them all, even though I think the whole dress code thing is kinda bullshit. It’s also <em> really </em> not me. I'm having a minor freak-out because I don't actually fucking <em> own </em> anything that even remotely fits the bill, besides the one dress shirt I wore for my interview yesterday.</p><p>Dutch is sitting on my bed, looking bored as shit while I raid my closet in the vain hope of finding just about anything that might be a decent compromise.</p><p>There’s nothing. </p><p>“Just wear whatever,” he says, as though he's not about to go home to shower and change, then meet me at Jimmy's looking hotter than hell.  </p><p>“Ugh,” I growl in frustration, sinking down to the floor. “I'm so bad at all <em> this </em>.”</p><p>That earns me a puzzled look. “What?”</p><p>I gesture at the piles of crumpled fabric around me. “This! I don't <em> do </em>girl.”</p><p>“Seems like you're doing okay from where I am.” Dutch smirks over in my direction.</p><p>I'm in my underwear.<em> Of course </em> it seems like that to him, right now, when my tits are out. “Thanks, that makes me feel <em> so much better. </em>” </p><p>“You're welcome,” he grins. </p><p>“Look,” I huff, “I have hot, or I have comfortable. I don't have… Fucking <em> cocktail dresses </em> or whatever. I'm not someone guys take home to meet their moms.”</p><p>He slides off my bed, down next to me, and pulls me by the hand so I've gotta climb into his lap, my bare thighs straddling his. “Good, cos I wouldn't know what to do with that.” </p><p>It's simple, but touching. Another thing I'm grateful for, another way we're on the same wavelength now. With his hands on my hips, he brings me closer, presses his lips softly to my cheek, punctuating a trail of kisses down my neck, til I'm all but melting into him. His name leaves my mouth in a breathy sigh while his fingers work up my back, unhooking the clasp of my bra.</p><p>“Nobody's gonna care what you're wearing. <em> I </em>don't care,” he says, driving the point home by getting me naked, apparently. </p><p>“I know, and you’re <em> obviously </em>the only one who matters anyway, huh?”</p><p>“Damn right,” he murmurs against my skin. </p><p>I lose the will to argue when his hands cup my chest, pushing my tits together, and his mouth finds its way home.</p><hr/><p>There’s a bunch of us out on the patio at Jimmy’s right now, but most of those here are absorbed in their own conversations. It’s just me and Tommy on our own at the edge of everyone else, close enough to jump in and out, but well, this is the last party, and he’s my boyfriend’s best friend. It’s only been a couple weeks, but Christmas looks to have been the turning point, and now it’s no longer weird, sometimes even <em> fun</em>, to be chatty with him. </p><p>It seems to help that he’s still been seeing Dutch almost as much as usual, on the off nights from me, and from the way they were trying to beat the shit out of each other with the unlit torches down on the beach earlier, nothing much between them has changed.</p><p>“So Bobby said you're all gonna start up karate again soon,” I mention, just making small talk. </p><p>“Yeah. Think I might go back to a dojo, if I find the right one.”</p><p>“Oh yeah? That’s cool. Have you been talking to Dutch about it? He might have some input.”</p><p>“Nah, not yet. Wanted to find somewhere good before I brought it up.”</p><p>“That makes sense. I just wasn’t sure, since Bobby mentioned all of you practicing.”</p><p>Tommy looks sorta puzzled, tilting his head to the side, “You talk to Bobby a lot, these days?” </p><p>I shake my head. “Only here, when Barbara puts him down long enough to get a word in.”</p><p>They're not so bad, really, just completely smitten. Adorably, sickeningly so. </p><p>“You're one to talk, like you and my friend aren't regularly joined at the mouth.”</p><p>“Hey, I resent that,” I tell him. “It's not always the <em> mouth</em>.”</p><p>“I really don't wanna be thinking about either of you like that.”</p><p>“Better get used to it, buddy. You know what he's like better than anyone.”</p><p>“Do I? A month ago I woulda never seen this coming,” he says, eyebrows raised. </p><p>“Me neither. Can't run away from a good thing forever, I guess. And I'm not so bad, am I?”</p><p>Tommy laughs. “Yeah, hardly like having a girl around at all. So what's up with the outfit?”</p><p>“C'mon, man, when have you ever seen me in a fancy dress? I skipped junior prom so I didn't have to wear one, remember? Skirts are an excuse to wear <em> less </em> clothes, not more.”</p><p>“Shit,” he says, “I forgot you weren't there.”</p><p>I give a wry laugh. “Well, I was easily missed back then.” </p><p>They were all pretty wasted anyway, if I'm remembering what I'd heard after the fact, correctly. </p><p>“Not so much now,” Tommy tips his beer in the direction of the window behind me, getting me to look around. </p><p>Dutch, Johnny, and Bobby are inside, with Barbara, looking out this way. Dutch has this look on his face that's hard to describe. Kinda mischievous, real cute. If he's made some comment about my ass, I'm gonna find out from Barbara later and then he's in deep trouble. I grin their way and flip <em> him </em> off, and the guys descend into laughter. </p><hr/><p>The evening’s been passing quicker than I’d like. The torches are back where they should be, down on the beach, and after a soccer game, we all kinda split apart again, this time fairly evenly segregated by gender. It’s nice to be in the middle of the big group of girls for a while, but as time goes on, I’m starting to feel that pull to look over at Dutch and see what he’s doing. </p><p>At one point he's talking to a few of the guys, and some of them are looking this way, though I guess not at me specifically, more a general surveilling of the girls who are still unattached. </p><p>The next time I look back, he’s wrestling Josh, then pinning the poor guy down and seeming pretty stern, though I’m too far away to hear what they’re saying. </p><p>I bring my focus back to Connie, who’s talking with Susan about making plans to go to the mall next weekend, and would <em> I </em> like to come? I almost nod before I realize I don’t know if I’ll be able to, on account of work.</p><p>“Sorry,” I tell her, “I’ll have to find out during the week.”</p><p>I’m getting tired and distracted after a long day yesterday, and the conversations going on around me aren’t quite holding my attention. I make my excuses and leave the girls, crossing the gap between groups, to where I pretty much always wanna be.</p><p>Dutch takes my hand when I get there, and pulls me down to him in the sand. His smile when he looks up at me makes my heart do a somersault, brings that giddy, unsteady feeling all the way through me, flooding out from my chest into every fibre of my being.</p><p>Wordlessly, I’m drawn in tight to his body, settled into the gap between his thighs, with my back against his warm, broad chest. He brings his mouth down to my ear, kisses me just behind there, and murmurs, “Hey, baby.”</p><p>“Hey,” I reply, my voice soft and low with desire. </p><p>There's a small chuckle from Freddy, I think, and from the way Dutch turns his head in that direction I'd guess that he's giving him a look, possibly the kind where he's daring the other person to continue where they were going with their line of thought, if they want to experience a whole world of pain. Maybe it's weird how much I love that look. </p><p>Freddy raises his hands in surrender, pretty much confirming what I'd suspected. </p><p>“That's what <em> I </em>thought,” Dutch says, sounding more than a little satisfied. He turns to talk to Tommy again, but Johnny catches my eye.</p><p>“Hi, Tina,” he says, “How's it going?” </p><p>“Not so bad. You and Ali have a good few days?” I ask.</p><p>He gives me this sunny, happy smile. “Can't complain.”</p><p>It sucks so bad that he only gets such a short time with her before she’s gotta go back to college. Feels even worse, since I’m confident that somehow, one way or another, he’s a large part of the reason I get to have Dutch. I get to stay here in the Valley and figure shit out, but Johnny’s has to watch his girl leave and make do with visiting. My heart hurts for him.</p><p>“Hey, Johnny?” I wait until he looks at me, then I say what I need to. Just one word. “Thanks.”</p><p>He looks puzzled for a moment, searching my face. Then he nods, and starts smirking again. “You and Dutch gone for any more <em> rides </em>together lately?” </p><p>The double entendre is <em> just </em> subtle enough that I guess most of the guys won't get his meaning. I shouldn't be surprised that he's heard about that, or at least that he'd put two and two together when he saw us leave that night, and came up with the correct answer.</p><p>I laugh, taking my glasses off to clean them when I notice they’re a little smudged, rubbing them on my shirt. The action gives me as good an excuse as any to pause before I answer, not quite coy, “Maybe once or twice.”</p><p>“Nice.”</p><p>Dutch is done with whatever he was talking to Tommy about, I guess, his attention on Johnny and I now, his voice right behind my ear, curious. “What are you two up to?”</p><p>I lean back, turn my face so I can press a kiss to his cheek. “Talking <em> about </em> you, not <em> to </em>you.”</p><p>Dutch laughs, the sound lighting up something in my chest. “Is that so, huh?”</p><p>
  <em> “Yeah.”  </em>
</p><p>I turn back to Johnny. </p><p>“So what's the deal with you and Ali? You're flying up on the weekends to visit? That’s a lot of travelling.” </p><p>“I am,” Johnny says, “and it is, but it'll be worth it to see her.”</p><p>“Better be,” Dutch gives us this dirty laugh, and I can't help but chuckle, even as I tap him lightly on the leg.</p><p>I have to crane my head back to look at him, “Don’t be like that just because you’d lose your mind if you couldn’t have me whenever you wanted.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t,” he says, but he’s stroking my side where his hand has found its way under my jacket while he does, so I kinda doubt it.</p><p>“Wanna test that theory?” I ask, as a challenge.</p><p>I see Johnny out of the corner of my eye, grinning at Dutch, barely containing his laugh.</p><p>Dutch sounds nearly indignant when he replies, “No.”</p><p>“Uh-huh. That’s what <em> I </em> thought.”</p><hr/><p>Ali, Barbara, Jennifer, and I have managed to find each other one by one, until we've formed a little circle in the kitchen, for once away from the boys, who I think are outside somewhere just the five of them. It's a rare thing these days. Now that we’ve all got guys, we've mostly been preoccupied with that, rather than hanging out together. It’s easy enough to do, and we’ve all been friends long enough that we could go <em> months </em> without speaking and still jump right back in like it was yesterday. Maybe that’s what grown-up friendships are like, but either way, I wouldn’t wanna make it a habit. I enjoy this too much.</p><p>Jennifer tilts her head at me curiously, “I heard you went on a real date. You two<em> are </em> serious, then?” </p><p>I mean, how could we be anything else? Surely they've <em> seen </em> the intensity between us. As if I’d ever have been able to be really, truly casual with Dutch. If it had just been the once, sure, <em> maybe </em>I could have moved on without much regret. The second he said he wanted me again, though? Any attempt to keep my feelings out of this would have been hopeless.</p><p>I feel a hand on my shoulder and look back towards it, finding Susan there. </p><p>“Dutch, on a date?” she says. “I’m shocked he even knows what one is.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” I grin. “When did you last go out with a guy?”</p><p>Susan waves a hand dismissively. “Let me guess, he got you flowers?” She scoffs, but it's less harsh than she has been about him in the past. Maybe she's warming up to the idea, even by degrees.</p><p>I shake my head, still smiling. “Even better. He brought me a cactus. It was actually <em> really </em> romantic.”</p><p>Ali and Jennifer look at me with moderate disbelief, and Susan's staring at me like I grew another head. Barbara seems like she's already heard about this, somehow. Maybe from Bobby? I don't know.</p><p>Susan <em> cackles, </em> like she might fall over she's laughing so hard. “You <em> are </em> certifiable. Completely insane. Suddenly, it all makes sense!”</p><p>“He's got this little cactus in his room, and we were talking about it, and I guess he decided I needed my own. Anyway, it was sweet.”</p><p>Barbara nods. “I can see it. He was being thoughtful.”</p><p>“Didn't think I'd <em> ever </em>hear that word used to describe Dutch,” Ali laughs softly.</p><p>“If he keeps this up, you might have to admit he's changed,” Jen adds, looking at Susan, “and if he can change, maybe anyone can.”</p><p>Susan rolls her eyes. “Gag me with a spoon. <em> He'll </em>change when hell freezes over.”</p><p>Uh-oh. Somewhere in there we've moved on from talking about Dutch, to talking about Tommy. Dangerous territory, like <em> 'here there be dragons' </em> level dangerous. It’s weird, cos that was whiplash-fast <em> venom</em>, and she’s not been like that about Tommy, not for a while. But he's my boyfriend's best friend, and I guess kinda my friend too now, so as much as I don't want to be in the crossfire here, I feel obliged to say <em> something</em>.</p><p>I try to at least sound diplomatic. “Tommy actually seems like less of an asshole than I remember.”</p><p>“We've already established your judgement can't be trusted,” Susan gives me an icy look. </p><p>“We'll see,” I smile. I'm trying not to be smug, but I know Tommy's not the same one she remembers, and at <em> some </em> point she'll have to see it too. “Ali, how are things with Johnny? You're leaving tomorrow, aren't you? Ready for long-distance?”</p><p>I leave out that I've already spoken to Johnny about this, a little, and I figure they've probably discussed it at length between themselves already. I'm just curious where she's at, too. </p><p>Ali shakes her head, like she's only a little surprised that I'm shifting the focus to her. “They're good, but I'm not ready. I never will be,” she brushes a loose strand of hair back from her face. “He'll come visit on the weekends, but it's not the same.”</p><p>“If anyone can make it work, it's you.” Barbara says, with a sense of faith that I definitely share. </p><p>Johnny loves Ali so much it's hard to look right at sometimes, and it's mutual, and love conquers all, <em> right? </em> </p><p>“Sadly we aren't all lucky enough to go to the same school as our boyfriends,” Ali teases, smiling at Barbara. </p><p>“Oh yeah,” I say, because I’ve just remembered they’re both living on campus, “how far is it between your Halls, anyway?”</p><p>Barbara looks at me, measured and careful. “Actually, we both live in Rieber. The Halls went co-ed last summer.”</p><p>My eyes widen for a moment, and then a grin breaks right across my face. “They <em> whatnow?” </em></p><p>“Don’t, Tina,” Jennifer warns, but her trying not to laugh ruins the impact.</p><p>“So you’re telling me you live in the <em> same </em>building?”</p><p>“Yes,” Barbara answers with a sweet smile. “Bobby’s on the floor below me.”</p><p>“And you’re <em> not </em>going to take advantage of that, at all, I bet.”</p><p>“Of course not,” Susan shoves me lightly, with mock offense on Barbara’s behalf. “Barbara’s a good girl, she wouldn’t run around getting into trouble like that.”</p><p>Barbara immediately jumps to her boyfriend’s defense. “And neither would Bobby. He’s a great guy, you know? He’s good to me.”</p><p>“Of course he is,” I agree. “I’m just wondering <em> how </em> good.” </p><p>Barbara laughs. “You’re awful. Almost as bad as your boyfriend.”</p><p>“It’s why you love me. <em> Someone’s </em>gotta lower the tone around here.”</p><p>We split away into smaller conversations for a while, two or three of us getting into it on different subjects at a time, until eventually Connie finds us, and she’s grinning so wide I would put good money on knowing what she’s about to say.</p><p>“You’ll <em> never </em>guess who kissed me,” she gushes. The excitement is pouring off her in waves, completely infectious.</p><p>“Oh, I bet I would.” And I am so fucking happy for her, if I’m right.</p><p>Connie, apparently unable to contain herself for another moment, stage-whispers, “Freddy! Freddy kissed me!”</p><p>I'm glad she's as pleased about this as she is, cos she's sure been playing it cool for a while.</p><p>“Took him long enough,” I laugh. “What was it I saw with you two on New Years Eve?”</p><p>She looks a little shy about it, just barely, fingers playing across the peeling sticker of her beer bottle. “You noticed?”</p><p>“Bet you two thought you were real slick, sneaking around like that, huh?” </p><p>“We weren't <em> sneaking.</em>”</p><p>“Is that right?”</p><p>“Not everyone's totally cool with the whole world knowing who they're crushing on.”</p><p>I lay the offended tone on extra thick, so Connie knows I’m kidding. “The whole world, sure, but to keep it from <em> me? </em>Shocking.”</p><p>“You know you can't be trusted with sensitive information like that, after last time,” she says. “You tried to introduce me to some guy neither of us had actually met. It was <em> embarrassing.” </em></p><p>I'm not sure I see the problem, cos I distinctly remember that going in her favor. “Wait, didn't that work?”</p><p>“Yes.. until the next day when he realized he didn't know you and you made me look batshit insane by association.”</p><p>I shrug. “Same difference if you already got what you wanted outta him.”</p><p>“Either way, it's <em> not </em> happening again.”</p><p>“I'm hurt, Connie.” To drive my point home, I hold my hand to my chest like there's a physical pain, right over my heart. </p><p>She gives me a withering look over the top of her drink as she’s bringing it to her lips, and says coolly, “You'll survive.”</p><p>“Nope, I'm mortally wounded,” I fake a sobbing sound to cover my laughter, as I sink to the floor, “can't you see I'm <em> dying </em> here?”</p><p>Susan looks over, shakes her head. “You’re so dramatic.”</p><p>I grin up at her. “Yes. I’m glad you <em> finally </em>noticed.”</p><p>She rolls her eyes and turns to Connie. “Ignore that one, she’ll get bored eventually.”</p><p>“If I didn’t annoy you, who would?” I ask, but then Greg, Aaron, and Freddy appear through the kitchen door as if summoned.</p><p>Susan’s trademark sardonic tone is thick, practically dripping from her words, when she says, “I’m sure <em> someone </em>will manage.”</p><p>We all stand around in the kitchen a while longer, drinking and talking and laughing, and I’m beyond glad we got a last chance to do this. Freddy puts his arm around Connie now, and that makes me smile. <em> After all this time… </em> It’s <em>really</em> good to see them figure it out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Caught Somewhere In Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The last party, part two. The final chapter!</p><p>I hope you enjoy it, have enjoyed this story as much as I've enjoyed writing. I'm going to take a break from posting for a while, while I get the next story written in advance, and so I can work on a couple of other smaller projects in the mean time. </p><p>Thanks to all you readers, for sticking with this story, and for falling in love with this universe as much as I did. And of course, a final thanks to Kai for being an amazing friend, writing buddy, and mentor through so much of this process, and for sharing this beautiful universe and amazing characters with me.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>We’ve said our goodbyes, the girls and I, and we’ve started to disperse.</p><p>I’m entering the living room, at the back of my group when I spot Dutch doing the same, on his way back inside. He’s got this sorta bittersweet half-smile on his face, a sad puppy look in his eyes, and it makes me concerned enough to step around the others and head straight to him.</p><p>His smile brightens a bit when he sees me, at least. </p><p>“Hey, you okay?” I ask, taking his hands, squeezing tight for a second, then shifting back to a looser grip.</p><p>He moves them in my grasp so his fingers can dance along mine, tapping out a nervous rhythm. “Yeah. Johnny’s leaving soon.”</p><p>I knew that, and I guess I should have expected Dutch to be affected by it. He’s as close to his friends as I am to mine, maybe even more. It hurts like hell to know most of my friends are leaving for college, even if I am excited about staying, and he has done this before, so I guess there’s none of the novelty. </p><p>“Oh yeah, I just said bye to Ali.” I sigh, not sure how to express this melancholy ache in my chest. “Weird to think we’re not gonna be back here for a while.”</p><p>He gives me a sympathetic smile as one of his hands leaves mine, comes up to brush my hair behind my ear, past the arm of my glasses. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”</p><p>I lean into his palm when it comes back to cup my cheek. “A bit,” I say, staring up into his eyes. “But you’re gonna see them soon, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, Thursday.” He still doesn’t seem himself.</p><p>I wonder, If I just say how <em> I’m </em>feeling, then maybe...</p><p>“It’s gonna be a long time til we’re all together again. I’m gonna miss everyone, real bad.”</p><p>Dutch cocks his head to one side, just so, like he’s figuring me out. </p><p>Eventually he settles on whatever it is he’s decided, and he pulls me to him, gathering me tight into his arms. I can barely breathe with just <em> how </em> tight he’s holding me, but I know he needs this as much as he’s convinced himself I do.</p><p>It works, he calms down. I can feel his tension easing away, and I’ve gotta confess, it feels pretty good to me, too.</p><p>“Yeah, same,” he admits, pressing a gentle kiss against my forehead.</p><p>Suddenly, I’m hit with the realization that I’ve never been with anyone who makes me feel this safe. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would do anything for Dutch, and that it’s mutual.</p><hr/><p>It’s getting late. Things are winding down. </p><p>People have been leaving in a steady trickle for hours now, starting with Johnny and Ali, until it’s just a handful of us left, a few stragglers, all fairly spread out, some down on the beach, and some of us up here. I think I saw Susan wander off into the kitchen a while ago, and Jennifer and Jimmy are floating around somewhere, maybe down with some of their other guests, but this little group of us now is about half of the people still here. Tommy, Nicole, Greg, Dutch, and me. </p><p>Samantha left earlier with a promise to go to the movies with Greg next weekend, so <em> that </em> seems to be solidifying nicely. I’m happy for them, cos Sam’s a really sweet girl, and especially now I’ve gotten to know her a bit, now that Johnny and Ali are definitely together and Ali’s cool with her, I actually quite like her. Greg’s still kind of an idiot, but he’s <em> our </em>idiot, and it’s nice that he’s got someone. Especially someone cool.</p><p>Somehow the conversation has gotten onto the subject of tattoos. Dutch, being the only person here intimately acquainted with my anatomy, shoots me a look when Greg starts bragging about the Celtic knot tattoo on his upper arm.</p><p>He sat for it for<em> two whole hours,</em> (including breaks) and it was <em> so very painful. </em> My heart <em> bleeds </em>for him.</p><p>It’s cute, really, that he’s <em> trying </em>to play up to how macho he is, even though it’s falling flat with me. Tommy, at least, looks interested in what Greg is saying, and Nicole’s got this polite, placid expression on her face. When we started talking about this, I was expecting some posturing from the guys. It’s kinda just what guys do.</p><p>What I’m not expecting, however, is for Nicole, <em> prim, kinda prissy Nicole, </em>to lift her blouse up and expose her side, where lo and behold, sits Mickey <em> fucking </em>Mouse staring back at me.</p><p>“I got it the weekend after we went to Disneyland,” she tells me, “isn’t he cute?”</p><p>I’m astounded, as is pretty much everyone else here.</p><p>“He is that,” I agree.</p><p>“What about you, Tina?” she asks. “Surely you have at least one.”</p><p>“Am I that predictable?”</p><p>“Come on,” Nicole prompts. “I showed mine.”</p><p>Only, showing my tattoo off requires a bit more undressing than just lifting up my shirt. Greg's eyes widen when my hand moves to my belt buckle, and he starts to realize my ink is somewhere <em> very </em> well hidden. </p><p>“Tina,” Dutch says steadily, but he’s smirking, eyes alight with amusement. “It’s not show-and-tell.”</p><p>“It’s a pretty tattoo, it’s hardly fair that you’re the only person who gets to see it.”</p><p>He rolls his eyes at me, then he points to Greg and Tommy, “If either of you two fuckers looks, I swear…”</p><p>Greg finds his balls, I guess, cos he pipes up, “Like we haven't seen just about everywhere on <em> you </em>, man.”</p><p>“S'different,” Dutch says, like he doesn't need to elaborate. </p><p>“How is it different? Cos I'm a girl? I'm <em> definitely </em>showing them now, since you're gonna act like a fuckin' caveman.”</p><p>“Tina.” Oh, <em> fuck</em>, now my name comes out as a warning. That’s surprisingly hot.</p><p>“What are you gonna do to stop me, huh? Club me over the head and take me home?”</p><p>He grins at me, dangerous, downright predatory. “Yeah, think I will.”</p><p>I barely have time to react before he's crossed the distance between us and put me over his shoulder, fireman-style. He spins around with me, back to face the group. </p><p>“Get off me, asshole!” I screech, flailing and laughing, completely not noticing that Greg has to jump back to avoid getting kicked.</p><p>In a domino effect, Greg falls into the table, which knocks a couple of bottles into each other, one of them rolling onto the floor and smashing.</p><p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p><p>Dutch puts me down, at least, if only so he can offer Greg a hand getting up. Thankfully, there’s no harm done, besides the smashed bottle on the floor.</p><p>“I’ll get it,” Tommy says, bending to collect the bigger chunks of broken glass, along with the part of the bottle that remains intact. </p><p>“Good idea,” Dutch agrees, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Wouldn’t wanna leave it lying around for some jealous boyfriend to pick up, like that time at Radio City.”</p><p>“He tried to gut me! I did nothing.”</p><p>“You did kinda tell the guy that <em> he </em>could suck your dick instead. He was wearing so much makeup, and you were so wasted, you thought he was a girl.”</p><p>Tommy’s already heading for the kitchen, to dump the glass in the trash. “Yeah right!”</p><p>“I’m just relaying facts.”</p><p>Over his shoulder, Tommy yells, “That’s not how I remember it, man!”</p><p>“I’m surprised you remember it at all!” Dutch shouts back.</p><hr/><p>I guess it’s time to head home, but it wouldn’t be right to leave without saying a <em> real </em> goodbye to the two people who put these parties together. And there's so much more to thank them for than just a good time, which makes it all the more important that we do. I know as much as they’ve enjoyed playing house, there’s been a lot of work put into hosting. Without that, without <em> them, </em> I wouldn’t have what I do with Dutch. </p><p>We catch up to them trying to sneak a quiet moment together, and I don’t love that we’re interrupting that, but it’s better that we do.</p><p>I knock on the wall, where we are at the top of the stairs, to announce our presence, just in case.</p><p>“Hi there.” It’s Jimmy, and he sounds fairly put together, so we’re not interrupting <em> too </em>much.</p><p>“Hey, guys,” I say, poking my head into the room. “We’re gonna head off soon.”</p><p>Jimmy gets up from where he’s sitting, on one of those chairs they have in here, and heads over to shake Dutch's hand, and pulls him into one of those one-armed bro-hugs. They clap each other on the back a couple times, then they part.</p><p>“Thanks for coming, buddy. You too, Tina,” Jimmy says.</p><p>Dutch nods. “Thanks for having us, man.”</p><p>Jen joins us over here, Jimmy's arm coming around her and pulling her flush against his side. </p><p>“I don't know how you managed to pull this all off,” I tell them. “But thank you. If you guys hadn't decided to get everyone back together...” </p><p>The thought doesn't bear finishing. They know.</p><p>She waves a hand dismissively. “We had a great time. And this,” she gestures between us, “looks good on you both.”</p><p>Jimmy nods, agreeing. “I'm glad to see you both happy. You deserve it,” he says, primarily to Dutch, adding affectionately, “don't screw it up.”</p><p>“He won't,” I smile. </p><p>Dutch is looking down at me in that way of his, like I'm the only person in the world worth his attention.</p><p>“I’m gonna make a move,” he says, squeezing my hand a little tighter, before letting go. “See you back at your place?” </p><p>“Yeah, sure.” </p><p>“Let me walk you out, man.” Jimmy says, and then they're leaving, and it's Jennifer and I alone. </p><p>“You’re starting your new job Monday?” she asks. </p><p>I don’t think I told her directly, but she must have overheard me earlier. I’m still way excited about it, not sure that’s gonna subside for a while, so there’s a big, goofy grin on my face when I reply, “I am. You excited to be heading back to college?”</p><p>She shrugs and gives me a little smile, “Yeah, it’s been <em> really </em> nice having Jimmy to myself a little more…” that smile shifts into a naughty smirk, and I <em> know </em> what she's implying there, “but it’s time, you know? We have plans this year.”</p><p>Jen and Jimmy are both so career-oriented, focused on their future together. It always seemed to be so much work so young, but now, I think I’m getting it. She’s got this wistful, determined look about her.</p><p>“I guess. Dutch and I are gonna have to start <em> planning </em>to see each other around work and other people. It’s been easier, doing this.”</p><p>We start heading for the door, too, down the stairs and out into their wood-panelled hall.</p><p>“You think you guys are a done deal then?” Jennifer asks.</p><p>I laugh, pushing my hair back from my face. “I keep thinking I can't get any happier, and then he does something else that makes me even crazier about him, so… You tell me. I'd say so.”</p><p><em> “Good,” </em>she says, and she nudges me. “I know how much you wanted this.”</p><p>I stop in my tracks. The validation that she <em> sees </em> how much he means to me makes this feeling I can’t name swell in me, threatening to spill over. I can't possibly hold it all in a second longer. I need to tell <em> someone, </em> need them not to judge me for it too much. Jennifer is already sworn to secrecy on things of this nature, thank god.</p><p>“I'm in love with him, Jen.” I say it softly, and then I take a breath, marvelling at the fact I got the words out, right before the fear slips back in. It's been two weeks, I <em> shouldn't </em> know that with the certainty I feel, and it shouldn’t be <em> this </em> overpowering. “It <em> sounds </em> crazy, doesn't it? I sound <em> batshit.” </em></p><p>“No crazier than usual,” Jen chuckles, teasing, then she reaches out and puts her hand softly on my shoulder, rubs her thumb across the leather of my jacket. The weight is comforting, even if I can’t feel her movement properly. “Take it easy on yourself. He cares about you.”</p><p>I got this far, so I may as well tell my most romantically settled friend what's going on in my head. “I’m afraid I’m gonna let it slip and scare him off.”</p><p>“You won't,” Jennifer says with a reassuring smile, “you'll know when the timing’s right, and it’ll be fine.”</p><p>I blow out a breath that ruffles my hair, just where it’s falling down on my forehead. “You're right, I know you are. It's just, it's so much, y'know? It’s too soon to tell him.”</p><p>She fixes me with this serious, sisterly look. “Jimmy and I had only been dating a month when he said it the first time, and now look at us.” Her hand comes up to gesture around the place, where she’s been adding her own feminine touches to the decor, as she’s been hosting multiple parties a week for the whole of winter break. “You find the right one, you nail that shit down, you hear me? You've had longer than Jimmy did to figure your feelings out.”</p><p>I laugh darkly, cos <em> yeah, </em> I’ve had a <em> while </em> to stew on this. </p><p>“And come on, it’s Dutch. I <em> saw </em>him looking at you earlier. He'll deal with anything you throw at him, you just gotta trust him.”</p><p>My voice comes out small, wavering and hesitant. “I guess. I <em> do.” </em></p><p>“You’ll get it figured out,” she says, as I’m pulled into a hug. “You ride safe, okay? Call me tomorrow.”</p><p>“Yeah, sure.” I nod. “Thanks for the pep talk, Jen.” </p><p>I start up again to grab my helmet from where it’s sitting on the side, and then I’m stepping out of the front door, fishing my keys out of my pocket with one hand and holding my helmet in the other. I’m ready to make the ride home, completely in a world of my own, thinking about everything Jen just told me. <em> A month. </em> I can manage that, surely?</p><p>“Boo.”</p><p>I jump damn near out of my skin before my mind registers that it’s Dutch.</p><p>He grabs my hand with the keys in when I whirl around towards him, laughing like my reaction is the funniest shit ever, and steps right into my personal space.</p><p>“You’re an asshole,” I breathe, trying to get my heart rate under control.</p><p>He’s still giggling <em> fiendishly, </em> even as he’s overwhelming me with how close he is, as the adrenaline rush shifts into something much better. “You aren’t wrong.”</p><p>I <em> swear… </em>I could kill him. I bring our hands, still clasped together, against his chest to push him playfully, but he doesn’t budge an inch. “I thought you were leaving ahead of me.”</p><p>“Thought I’d surprise you.” That grin, as he looks down at me, makes me want to swoon. </p><p>I <em> don’t </em> swoon, but <em> this guy, </em> fucking hell. He blows my fucking mind. “Well, you did.”</p><p>“Come here,” he says, and then he’s tilting my chin up to him with his knuckle under there, and he’s leaning in to kiss me. It’s just a brush of his lips over mine, soft then firm, tender, sweet like the soda he’s been drinking, before he pulls back. The fact he doesn’t open up to me to deepen the kiss catches me off guard. </p><p>When I try to follow him, to get more of what I want, he smirks. Then he’s chewing at the inside of his cheek, the way he does sometimes when he’s nervous. I haven’t seen that in a while.</p><p>“I wanted to…” he starts, then shakes his head. “I don’t fuckin’ know. Just needed to kiss you again before we leave.”</p><p>He’s right, I can feel it, now we’re here at the turnout. It’s another goodbye. A phase of our lives coming to an end, something new beginning.</p><hr/><p>Dutch is leaning against the hood of his car when I pull onto the driveway, arms crossed and his jacket drawn tight around his body. There’s a chill in the air that I’ve been feeling since about halfway home, which even despite my gloves, has my fingers feeling numb where I’m moving to grip the brakes. I bring my bike alongside him, and once I’m at a stop, I shut off the engine and kick out the stand to take the weight. </p><p>I’ve barely dismounted when strong arms come around my waist from behind, before I’ve managed to do so much as unclip the chin strap on my helmet. I know my voice is muffled when I let out a laugh at his eagerness, never mind how much I’m feeling it myself. </p><p>“Back up,” I tell him, “I can't kiss you with this on my head.”</p><p>He does as he’s told, thank god, and I manage to get myself free of the thing, so I can turn around and bring him back to me. We kiss like that for what could be minutes or hours, properly this time, until I hear the front door open and have to push him away.</p><p>
  <em>Busted.</em>
</p><p>“You gonna come inside at any point this evening, or are you just putting on a show for the neighbors?”</p><p>I could <em> die. </em> My dad hasn't caught me making out with a boy for a long, long time, but apparently it doesn’t become any less mortifying the older you get.</p><p>“Coming, Dad.”</p><p>Dutch laughs softly, pulling me back into his arms and guiding me up to the house.</p><p>“I’m going to bed,” my dad says when he sees us in the doorway. “Keep the noise down.”</p><p>If the earth would swallow me whole right now, that would be nice. Embarrassment has me frozen to the spot.</p><p>“Your dad’s cool,” Dutch nudges me forward so I have to move.</p><p>“I guess.” I sigh, putting my helmet down on the bench by the door. Once I get my jacket off, I hang it on the rack and take Dutch’s to do the same.</p><p>“We had a good talk, yesterday,” he says, almost hesitant. I guess he’s gonna mention more than the apology that he already told me about.</p><p>We head straight on through, taking a right into the hall and a left into my room, and then we're sitting, side by side on my bed. We’re both working on taking off our boots when I answer, “I know.”</p><p>“Yeah, thought I heard you out in the hall. How much did you hear?”</p><p>“Not much,” I say, casually. “Enough.”</p><p>Dutch puts his hand on my back, and despite his hand being a little cold from waiting outside for me, I struggle not to lean into his touch for half a second, before I remember that I have absolutely <em> no </em> reason to fight it, and I relax. I’m his. Whatever happens in here, in the sanctuary of my bedroom, it’s okay. I don’t have to be nervous about saying the wrong thing, not with Dutch. His fingers work under my top, then splay out against my skin.</p><p>I close my eyes and smile, just focusing on his touch, like there's nothing else in the world but that feeling and the sound of our breathing in the quiet of my room. Then he's moving closer, resting his chin on my shoulder, and I turn my head, open my eyes to look at him again. I lean in to kiss him, and when we do, it's <em> so </em> much like the first time, yet <em> completely </em> fucking different. It's intense, and it's beautiful, and there's an unfathomable fucking depth I can't be sure I'll <em> ever </em> get my head around. </p><p>Four and a half years of build-up came to a thundering crescendo on that ride, and that's gone on fairly steadily with no signs of slowing down. Has it really only been two weeks? It feels like forever, so fucking <em> right</em>, like we exist outside of time. I don't know if he feels the same, but the way he looks at me when we separate, just long enough that I can turn my body towards him, gives me some indication that it's a safe bet he's not too many steps behind. And even if he is, <em> that's okay. </em> I can take the lead, hold this ground until he gets here.</p><p>I do just that, kissing him softly again before rearranging myself on the bed, then holding out my hand to him in invitation. </p><p>He comes to me, draws the hand he just took up above my head, where I already have the other one, and holds them both together up there, in one of his own. He's got me trapped under him, and I can feel his body reacting the same way mine is, pressing into me for that delicious friction, and we're breathing hot, heavy, staccato.</p><p>I guess now he's got me at a physical disadvantage, he feels more comfortable extracting the information he wants. Sex is <em> easy, </em> a comfortable segue into the things I find harder, and given all the other ways our minds seem to work the same, it's not a huge leap to assume that's what's going on for him now. Not when the way he looks down at me just about tears me apart. </p><p>There's so much emotion in his voice, about five different things all mixed up, when he asks, “So you heard me say you're special, huh?”</p><p>I smile in response, cos it's one thing to hear him say it to someone else, and another entirely to hear those words directed at me. <em> “Yeah.” </em></p><p>He nods, and there's some mutual understanding, an acknowledgement that we're both on the same page. I <em> know </em> how much he values me. </p><p>But that's not one-sided, not for a second, and I really hope he sees that. </p><p>“You know you are too, right?” </p><p>His body goes tense, and he looks away, finds a spot on the wall, like he can't meet my gaze. That hurts, cos I want him to see how much I mean this. </p><p>“Hey,” I whisper. <em> “Look at me.” </em></p><p>He does. It takes my breath away.</p><p>“No one's ever made me feel like you do,” I can hardly believe that’s my own voice, with how profound it comes out. “Never.”</p><p>He closes his eyes, and I'm gonna let him do that, this time.</p><p>“Fuck. <em> Tina,” </em> he murmurs, leaning close to rest his forehead against mine. After a moment, I tilt my face upwards, finding his cheek with my lips, feeling the scratch of his stubble as I kiss a path there, across to his mouth.</p><p>I <em> love </em>him, so much it aches, and it's not dissimilar to that amazing, throbbing feeling blossoming inside me. It takes over my whole body, mind too, making it hard to think straight. </p><p>The only thing I can think right now is how much I wanna show him what he means to me, how that keeps getting stronger each day, however impossible that seems.</p>
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